


Wayfaring Stranger

by NekoIzumi



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Dwarves Only Love Once, F/M, Female Bilbo, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Sorry Not Sorry, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Quest Goes Fine Without Bilbo, Younger Bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 62,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoIzumi/pseuds/NekoIzumi
Summary: Bilbo wants a child. However, she isn’t interested in marriage. So how to go about getting a child in a place where gossip spreads like wildfire and you have a reputation and respectability to uphold? Well, a discreet visit to The Prancing Pony might do the trick.Fíli is off on a quest from which he will most likely never return and he sure isn’t going to turn down a tumble with a pretty lass if it is offered.Neither expects Fate to be such a pain in the arse.  (Title has nothing to do with the song.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer; I don’t own The Hobbit, I don’t want to. Neither do I profit from writing this fic.
> 
> I do NOT give permission for anyone to put my works on Goodreads or any such similar place. Thank you.

Bilbo had never really given much thought to the idea of getting married. She certainly knew she was _expected_ to find herself a husband and have a bunch of fauntlings, however… that was exactly the problem, wasn’t it? She had no interest in marrying. Bilbo had had her fair share of suitors, they still came along whenever she least expected it, popping up like mushrooms after a heavy rain they were, but she had shown them all the door. Some were nice, others not so much, some were dumb as posts, others thought themselves clever, but they all had one thing in common. They all wanted her money and her beloved Bag End. Oh, she would never forget the day Otho Sackville-Baggins came along with the most pitiful handful of wilted wild flowers, shoving them in her face with a smarmy smile whilst inviting himself for tea, talking about marriage and how many babes she’d bear him. He hadn’t even made it through the door before Bilbo grabbed him by the collar and threw him out on his rump, throwing the pathetic bouquet in his face, letting him know _exactly_ what she thought of him and his delusions. The _gall_ of the man! To think he had any right to make himself at home like that when she hadn’t even invited him in! She hadn’t paid much attention to it back then, righteously furious as she had been, but now she remembered with utter glee that Otho’s disgrace had been witnessed by the Gamgees _and_ three of her Took cousins. And a few others. The rumour of how Otho had been thrown out on his arse had reached the grapevine long before the hobbit in question had reached Hobbiton. Along with rumours about Bilbo of course but then again, she had always stood out like a sore thumb so no one was surprised at her behaviour, as rude as it had been.

 

However, as much as Bilbo loathed the very idea of getting married, she had always wanted children and ever since her beloved mother passed away a few years ago, that desire had only grown larger until it was a constantly throbbing ache beneath her ribs. Yes, Bilbo wanted a child. Desperately. She yearned for the lovely smell of a babe, of the sound of small feet over her floors, of a voice calling her ‘mummy’… and she intended to get it, without necessarily having to tie herself to some nasty hobbit that was dumber than a bag of hammers. And greedy on top of it. No, she was not going to get married. But that didn’t stop her from getting what she wanted, after all, she was nothing if not Belladonna Took’s daughter!

 

-

 

Everybody knew that The Prancing Pony was the place to go if you wanted to meet travellers… or if you had other inclinations. Generally, most hobbits went to Bree to trade or to drink with the Big Folk and share songs and tales over a pint of ale or two. That’s Bilbo's excuse for being there, to hear songs and tales. In reality, she was there for something completely else… only, as she was carefully lifted up on a high barstool by a kind Man, she was dismayed to realise that she had apparently been stood up. The hobbit she had agreed to meet was nowhere to be seen and well, that sure threw a spanner in her plans. The hobbit in question was of questionable morals and reputability, not to mention, she wouldn’t have been the first to carry one of his bastards, so he had been an excellent candidate for what she intended to use him for. Only he was not there… probably drunk of his arse somewhere in a barn he was. Annoyed, and not so little humiliated, for she had come wearing her best dress, one that showed off her curves, Bilbo ordered herself a stein of ale and sighed. Suddenly tired, she looked around the inn. Everything seemed as it always had been whenever she had visited Bree, which admittedly hadn’t been often. Loud Men making merry, hobbits weaving through the throngs of Big Folk to and from the bar… and in a corner, a large group of dwarves. Well, that was certainly unexpected.

 

She eyed them curiously, noticing their differences, their weapons, ages and intricately styled hair… save for the large bald one. Some of them seemed to discuss something very serious in the corner where they sat, a very regal looking one wearing a facial expression not entirely unlike the one that one of her young nephews wore when he went potty with a constipated tummy. Another on the other hand, with an odd hat on his head and braids that seemed to stick right out from underneath, was rather jolly where he sat, laughing loudly with a very large dwarf and one that-… was that an axe stuck in his head!? Bilbo was horrified… and oddly intrigued. Then there was the old one with the long white beard, there was something so genuinely _kind_ in his eyes that it made her smile. She wondered what they were doing in Bree, maybe they were merchants? They must be with such age differences between the kind-looking one and the young brunet, currently spraying the table in half chewed pieces of food and ale from laughing at something the hatted one had said. Bilbo wrinkled her nose in disgust, but it didn’t seem to offend any of the dwarves that accidentally got covered. Not much at least. Though the one with the intricate white hair looked rather miffed, much to the glee of another dwarf with an odd hairstyle to brag about. How did he even get it like that?

 

That’s when she noticed the blond one, his colouring so vastly different from the other dwarves. He was looking right at her, something intense in his eyes, and even from the distance across the inn she could see they were an intense cerulean blue. He was handsome no doubt, Bilbo would even go as far as saying he was beautiful, but then again… no. She had not come all this way to fool around with dwarves, handsome or otherwise. When he offered her a tiny little smile she merely raised a sharp eyebrow at him, seeing the hint of surprise on his face as she turned her back to him. She snorted into her ale. Pretty boy was apparently not used to be found wanting. Goodness grief, she was tired of men who thought themselves the Valar’s gift to women. Though there was _something_ about him that made her heart beat faster… which is exactly why she shouldn’t have been surprised when a warm body pressed lightly into hers, strong arms landing on the wood of the bar, framing her from behind when she slid off her perch to leave. She didn’t bother turning around, she knew who it was.

 

“Is there something I can do for you, Master Dwarf?” she asked calmly, tilting her head just a touch so she could hear him better in the din of the inn. His hot breath right over her ear sent delightful shivers down her spine.

“Perhaps.” he murmured lowly. “I would be honoured if such a pretty lass would let me know her name.”

“Why should I, Master Dwarf, when you have yet to give me your own?” she replied, feeling a little smile tug at her lips when he chuckled, a warm sound that made her shiver for entirely different reasons. “Not very polite that, is it?” Bilbo finally turned around to face him properly, earning herself a smile that made her feel slightly lightheaded. The look in his eyes was _hungry_ , for _her_.

“Pardon my bad manners then, Miss Hobbit. I am Fíli, at your service.” Fíli hadn’t moved away from her, not as much as an inch, and he quite enjoyed feeling her against him. She was simply delightful and he had seen her long before she had seen him. It had amused him to see her repulsed reaction to Kíli's guffaw with food still in his mouth. Then her eyes had met his and Fíli had felt as if he'd been struck by Mahal's hammer right in his chest. In his eyes she had gone from pretty, to breathtakingly beautiful.

 

Offering her a cheeky wink he lifted a small delicate hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to her knuckles. His lips tingled.

“Fíli.” She tasted the name, not knowing she sent shocks of sparks through his body.

“May I have your name now, Miss Hobbit?” Fíli rasped. He didn’t know why but he had to have her, he had to touch her and taste her, he was burning for her. What was this intense _need_ , where did it come from?

 

“Rowan.” Bilbo wasn’t stupid enough to offer her real name. This may be Bree but there were still other hobbits there and it mattered little if they knew her face or not, the name _Baggins_ was famous enough and she _did_ have her reputation to think about. So she had cheekily offered the name of one of her cousins instead.

“Rowan…” Fíli pressed just a tiny bit more into her personal space. The name rolled off his tongue easily enough. “Come to my room.” he whispered over a pointy ear, brushing his jaw gently against her temple to bury his nose in silken curls. She smelled _incredible_. “Please… let me give you pleasure…”

“Very confident, are you?” Her murmur against his own ear ignited a fire Fíli had never felt before. He gasped, unable from pressing more firmly into her, to feel more of her warmth. He wanted her scent to seep into his skin. He couldn’t help it, he was already hard for her. “What makes you think you know how to?”

“Allow me to prove myself to you.” the dwarf murmured. Please, please, Mahal, let this lovely little creature come with him so he could put his everything into making her tremble and scream with pleasure. “I will make it worth your time, little Miss.”

Only then did she turn to look him in the eyes, and Fíli swallowed hard. Her eyes were the colour of translucent dark jade, so intense they were almost painful to look at, yet so fitting with her silken honey curls. A whisper of lips against his made him suppress another shiver.

“…show the way then, Master Dwarf.”

Fíli didn’t wait for her to change her mind. He merely wrapped a strong arm around her waist, holding her close as he moved through the throng of people, big and small alike, towards the stairs and up.

 

-

 

He pressed her up against the door the second he had closed it and claimed her mouth in a kiss that made his head spin. She responded so beautifully to him, just as eager and greedy for more of him, of _him_ , ripping a groan from the blond when small hands made quick work of his belts, sending them to the floor with a clatter. Fíli had completely forgotten about his swords, not that he cared about them at present. He moaned like a man wounded when she made equally quick work of his laces, pushing his trousers down just enough to reach into his smallclothes and wrap a small surprisingly steady hand around him. His own hands had been busy with palming her generous curves, and goodness was she a feast for a starved man, and he earned the most delicious mewl when he cupped a soft breast through her layers, rubbing a thumb over the nipple he felt pebble against his touch. He would have reached for the lacing in her bodice but she sank her teeth into his lower lip and pulled, causing him to growl. Her soothing the bite with her tongue didn’t help. Much.

“Later,” she panted into the next devouring kiss, a small hand guiding a larger one up under her skirt. “We can undress for the next round, for now I want you in me.”

 

Fíli didn’t need to be told twice. Doing his bloody best to kiss that sharp wit right out of her pretty head he let his hands slide up soft skin, the softest he had ever felt, up to her underthings to pull them down and off. He thought he might have ripped them in his enthusiasm but she didn’t say anything about it if she was aware.

Then a warm hand found her, already wet for him and for a moment Fíli's brain stopped working. He heard her moans and mewls and gasps as he gently parted her folds to feel her heat and slide inside, a beautiful symphony accompanied by his heartbeats thundering in his ears.

“Fíli!” she moaned, letting go of him to wrap her arms around his neck. “Now!”

Without thinking he hoisted her up, holding her easily aloft between the door and his chest. Breathing harshly Fíli looked into those hazy green eyes… and lowered her down onto him. For a long moment, there was nothing either of them could do but breathe, looking into each other’s eyes with wonder. Fíli's skin buzzed, tingled, he felt like he'd been out in the sun for minutes only to come inside and realise he'd gotten a bad sunburn. There was only her.

 

Bilbo on her end had no idea what was going on. Sure, she had had the occasional bedmate before but it had _never_ felt like this! Her body was on fire with energy, pulsing with jolts of pure desire and want. She had felt herself wet through her panties just from having him pressed against her back down in the bar and she had known then that she would take him to bed. Not that that had prepared her for this madness. He felt perfect inside her, hard and so hot and his hair in her hands felt soft, smelling of leather and travel and sweat and something that could be nothing but _him_. Somewhere deep in her mind she realised that this one bloody dwarf had probably gone and ruined her for all and any other partners. Damn him, _damn him_! But oh, not right now, not right-… He released the most erotic growl she had ever heard when she fisted her hand in golden tresses and tugged lightly, just enough to make him offer her his jugular, and being the lady that she was, she graciously accepted, nibbling and biting love marks into sensitive skin.

“Fíli, move.” she snapped, suddenly impatient. “ _Move!_ ”

And he did.

 

He claimed her hard against that door, harder than he would’ve let himself had he been in his right mind, but he wasn’t and Fíli was suddenly running on pure instinct, an animalistic _need_ to mark her as his, to make everybody know whom she belonged to, including her! She was Fíli's, _his_!

His hips snapped faster against her, earning him shameless moans of pleasure and Fíli couldn’t help the feral smirk that graced his face. He had promised to prove himself worth her while, hadn’t he? Well, he was pretty sure he had done just that! If judging by the noises she made, and Mahal were they lovely noises, she very much agreed! Good, because he wasn’t done with her yet. His mouth found the delicate column of her throat and he licked and sucked and bit love bites into her pale skin, deliriously pleased to have marked her someway. She tasted of sweat and soap and something much subtler underneath, something that was wholly _her_ and he committed that taste to memory as well as that wonderful scent of her, now thick and musky with her arousal. She whined when he moved one hand from the supple flesh of her behind, her legs tightening around his waist instinctively, to slide his hand to her centre and rub over her pearl. Then she started trembling, whimpering into his throat and he knew she was close to her peak.

He would have offered her comforting words, maybe even a few filthy ones, if he had been able but right now he wasn’t so instead he kept on rumbling, the noise coming from deep within his chest, snapping his hips deeper while keeping his thumb moving in gentle yet firm circles.

 

Seeing her finally come undone was the most glorious thing he had ever seen. She threw her head back with a cry, her body as taut as a bowstring while those bewitching green eyes stared unseeingly at the ceiling. She pulsed around him, hot and wet and so _tight_ and against his will, Fíli was hurled over the edge into his own climax. For a while his world whitened out. When he finally came to, he had no idea how much time had passed but it couldn’t have been much for he was still wheezing for breath and so was she. She was clinging to him like a limpet where she sat in his lap and-… oh. Fíli couldn’t help but chuckle when he realised his legs had given out under him and they had sunk down to the floor. He tightened his grip on her when he felt her press soft kisses up his throat, clearly undisturbed by the beard, down his jaw, until she reached his lips. She was smiling, her fingers now running through golden tresses gently instead of pulling. He nearly purred.

“I do hope there is more in you than this, Master Dwarf,” she mused, looking into his eyes and winking, her devious little hands already wandering, exploring. “I was hoping to get you out of all these ridiculous layers and-” She blinked, raising an eyebrow when her other hand came upon the dagger strapped to his back, pulling it out to stare at it. “Weaponry.” she finished drily, letting the blade fall to the floor with a _‘thunk’_. “How many of these have you got on you?”

“You want to find out, little Miss?” Fíli grinned.

“I care little for your knives.” She licked her lips, moving her hands to his front instead, eyeing the peek of his collarbones and chest hungrily. “I want to see more of _you_.”

“Well, is it not fortunate then,” he rasped, leaning in for more kisses. “That I am ever at your service.”

 

Hours later, and many more rounds than he had ever expected himself to be able of, Fíli lay in bed with his hobbit, thinking. She fit into his arms so well and she had matched him round for round, laughing when they nearly toppled off the bed, moaning with utter abandon when he feasted upon her, drinking himself full on her essence before he took her again, and yet again later made him see stars when she took him in her mouth and drank down every single drop he gave her. He had heard so many tales of this miracle, how you just _knew_ when you met that special someone that was made _just for you_ … how _rare_ Ones were. And here he was, in a small room at an inn in Bree, having found his most precious treasure in a hobbit lass of the Shire. _‘Mahal, why did I have to meet her_ now _of all the times we could have met?’_ he thought desperately. As if sensing his dark thoughts, she stirred, long thick lashes fluttering open to reveal satiated luminous green. Smiling a wicked little smile, she moved gracefully on top of him, rolling her hips sensually where she sat. She was breath-taking with her hair a mess around her head and her voluptuous body bearing marks of his hands and teeth, yet smiling that little smile that told him just how confident she was in herself. And in getting what she wanted.

“One more,” she whispered softly, her eyes glittering and her hands wandering to slide tantalisingly over his chest, through his chest hair to nipples oversensitive from so much play. “There must be one more in you, Fíli…” She moaned lowly, rubbing against him. “Just one more.”

Alright, so maybe not so satiated after all.

Fíli nearly let out a bout of hysterical laughter. His body was sore and exhausted from all the rounds she’d demanded already. Mahal's Beard, he loved her already. His hands moved to rounded hips of their own volition, caressing, holding her steady atop him. His mouth watered to taste more of her generous breasts.

“I am,” Fíli replied hoarsely, already feeling his body respond to her sensual calling. “At your service.”

 

-

 

Bilbo watched the sleeping dwarf in bed after having put her clothes on and done up her bodice. Her soiled underthings she put in her pocket, not wanting to wear anything so close to her sensitive parts that had been on the doubtfully clean floor of the inn. Seeing Fíli sleeping so soundly and knowing she had to leave him made her heart ache. She had been greedy this night, she had demanded him again and again and again and he had indulged her every single time, giving her so much pleasure she got drunk on it. Bilbo had never felt this way before, this close, this intimate with a partner… as if she had been _made_ for him. But that’s what it had felt like, and it terrified her. Without doubt she knew that she would probably not take any other lovers, not after having felt what she had with Fíli, and it made her want to cry because she doubted she would ever see him again. This night had been wonderful, amazing, she had felt such a connection to this wonderful dwarf and somewhere deep down she knew that was rare, precious. She had felt as if she had been a part of him and wasn’t that silly? She had fallen in love with a dwarf, not that it would afford her anything. A dwarf going for a hobbit? Incredible sex could do a lot but she doubted it could do that much.

 

She watched him sleep for a while longer, committing the strong and chiselled frame to her memory, the golden hair, what few scars he bore, the braids and oh so gentle hands, the stunning features. Just remembering his deep voice sent pleasurable shivers down her spine. _‘Sweet Yavanna, why did he have to be so handsome?’_ Bilbo mentally sighed. No one could come anywhere near the perfection that was Fíli, no other dwarf and certainly no portly hobbit. But regardless of his beauty she had to leave, she had duties back home and she had already been away from Bag End for over a seven-day. But just leaving without as much as a by-your-leave felt wrong to her, she wanted to leave _something_ of hers for him to remember her by.

She swallowed hard. There was only one thing she had on her that she could use and that was her mother’s locket. She hadn’t taken it off once since Belladonna’s passing and it hurt thinking about losing it but-… _Fíli_.

Well, there was nothing for it. At least she would give it to someone she loved rather than have it ending up in that nasty Lobelia's filthy little paws. Making sure the dwarf was still very much asleep she took one of his daggers, and there had been a truly staggering number of blades to discover on his person, using it to cut off a lock of her hair once she had tied a loose string from her skirt around it. Then she carefully put the lock of hair inside the locket and left it on the pillow by his hand. Unable to stop herself, Bilbo leaned down to press the gentlest of kisses to his lips, one last kiss, then she left the room and closed the door silently behind her. A little while later a small figure darted out into the darkness, leaving The Prancing Pony behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot bunny. That's all there is to it. Why my bunnies keep aiming for rare pairs I don't know. Not that's it's anything new -__-"
> 
> Comments are love and keep me motivated! ♥


	2. Chapter 2

Kíli wasn’t the only one who graced him with a shit-eating grin the next morning as they rode out of Bree. Bofur and Nori had given him truly disturbing leers, hinting at how he had managed to snag himself a little lass and oh my, hadn’t he been the voracious beast? Indeed, they had heard through the door how he had indulged himself in the little miss, and through the walls too! Even _Dwalin_ had patted him firmly on the back, chuckling something under his breath about ‘that Durin blood running ever hot’… but Fíli wasn’t smiling. Any other time he probably would have laughed with them, boasted about his latest conquest, as distasteful as that was, but not this time. No, Fíli wasn’t laughing at all. He sat silently in his saddle, his body aching from a night of pleasurable activities and too little sleep, his eyes firmly on the road ahead of them. Beneath his layers, under his tunic and close to his heart, he wore a delicate silver locket. It burned against his skin, the only thing he had of his One. Oh, he must've angered the Valar something fierce to have met his destined One _now_ , right as he set out with his brother and uncle to retake Erebor from a firedrake. Was it a sign? Was he not meant to go on this adventure? Fíli wasn’t daft by any means and he knew the chances of him ever returning from this endeavour were slim. Even with a batty wizard for help, he doubted they'd succeed… yet still they had to try. No one had seen or heard of Smaug for so long and their ancestral home may stand unguarded. He was so torn, because he had sworn his loyalty to Thorin but now…

 

Fíli sighed, trying not to wince where he sat. He was a warrior in tiptop physical shape but Rowan sure had given him a run for his money last night. She had been _insatiable_ and he had absolutely _loved_ it. Who didn’t love a woman who couldn’t get enough of you? Defying all reason, he had given her more than he had ever thought himself able to give, and then some. He remembered her small hands running over his body, exploring him, learning and mapping him to remember, fingertips taking utter delight in how sensitive his nipples were and which noises she could wring from him when she added lips and teeth. And her mouth… Fíli damn near blushed where he sat, recalling how she had used lips and tongue on him, making him spill so hard he could have sworn he pulled something. It had been quite the experience to blink open his eyes to the sight of that wicked little minx licking his seed from her lips and fingers like a happy cat finishing off the last drops of cream. He'd stunned himself when he started getting hard, again, just from watching her slink up over his body, to share the taste of himself with him. If he hadn’t known any better he would have thought he had reverted back to when he was younger and still so easily excitable that a mere hint of breast was enough to make him hard minutes after he had spilled. Now he wondered if it wasn’t the bond to his One. His body had known before his head and had reacted to her every touch, as if she had been playing him like an instrument… as if it knew this might be the only chance he got and thus gave her it’s all. Even as he thought about her, he ached for more.

He swallowed hard, absentmindedly patting his chest to feel the locket press against him. The locket, and the hair within, were now his most cherished possessions. Fíli snorted at himself. _‘I have turned into Glóin.’_ he thought laconically, because there wasn’t a single dwarf in the company who _hadn’t_ heard Glóin's tales of his beautiful wife and son at least a dozen or so times already. At least Fíli wasn’t sprouting prose like the other.

 

“Fíli, are you alright?” Kíli asked lowly, coming up closer to his brother. He had finally noticed that the blond was actually rather distressed, not just tired from a night of screwing. “Did something happen last night?”

Fíli glanced at his brother, seeing the genuine worry in his eyes. For all of Kíli behaving like a boor at the most of times, he was actually quite perceptive and his dark eyes saw a lot more than you ever gave him credit for. Not to mention, the brothers were so close and in tune with each other it was actually quite surprising that he hadn’t noticed Fíli's anguish the second he came down for breakfast. Fíli must've hidden it quite well.

“You remember that lass I went upstairs with last night?” Fíli rasped, making sure none of the others could overhear him. “The hobbit lass?”

“Yes, of course I do.” Kíli replied unsurely, frowning slightly. “I had to sleep in uncle’s room to give you some privacy.”

“That lass…” Fíli swallowed hard again. “She is my One.” he pressed out, reaching inside his tunic.

Kíli stared bug-eyed at the locket, losing all colour when he realised just how bad the situation was.

“Fíli!”

“Do not tell uncle!” the blond hissed, putting it back against his heart, where it was safe. “He will not understand! He might make me stay behind.”

“As you bloody well should!” Kíli hissed right back. “You have a _One_ , Fíli, why are you coming with us on this suicide quest if you _know_ you have a soulmate!?”

 

The two brothers pressed out equally manic grins when Dwalin turned around in his saddle to glance at them, gracing them with a suspicious glance and a snort for their efforts. Being known as constantly being up to no good sure served them well right now. Most likely, the burly warrior suspected they were planning a prank on him, not talking about Ones and how Fíli had stumbled upon his in Bree.

“Because I _promised_ uncle I would help him retake Erebor.” Fíli murmured a while later, after the two had slowed down so they could ride at the very back of the group where they could talk unheard. “Just like you did, Kíli. Finding Rowan has not changed that.” Fíli frowned. For some reason, the name didn’t sit well with him. How was that possible?

Ignoring that for now, he sighed heavily while looking around, keeping an eye out for any danger. Though he doubted there was much in these parts.

“Are you sure about this?” Kíli asked after another handful of silent minutes. “Does she know you may not return?”

“No, she does not.” Fíli replied lowly. “She knows nothing about this quest, only my name.”

“And you know hers.”

“Aye…”

“Well, should we survive this madness, at least you know she is safe, and where she is.”

And as small a comfort as that was, at least it was something. Until he could come for her, Fíli would have to live on the memories.

 

-

 

Bilbo was anything but pleased to come home after her trip to Bree only to see someone knocking on her door as she made her way up to road towards the hill. Even from as far away as she was she recognised yet another of her ‘suitors’, Tolman Proudfoot, one didn’t mistake those feet that easily, and it looked as if the fool decided to have another go at his luck with the Master of Bag End. She really had to struggle to keep a smile on her face as she walked up to and in through her little gate.

“Mister Proudfoot,” she greeted him through gritted teeth. “Is there something wrong?” She wasn’t stupid enough to ask if there was anything she could do for him, knowing bloody well from earlier meetings that he'd take that as a cue to invite himself in for tea. The look on his face, disappointment if anything, told her that that had been exactly what he had had in mind. Not the sharpest trowel in the garden this one.

 

“Uhm, no, not at all, Miss Baggins!” he smiled at her, thrusting a chubby fist of flowers in her face, nearly making her topple right back down the hill. “I came to give you these!” he said proudly.

She blinked comically at the offering. At least they were better than the sad flowers Otho had offered her. Tolman had been smart enough to grab some from his own garden though he hadn’t been smart enough to check exactly _what_ it was that he was offering. She saw Candy Tuft in there, along with Geranium and Larkspur. What a clot. Levelling him with a truly unimpressed look she raised a dry eyebrow at him, not taking the flowers.

“Mister Proudfoot, are you absolutely _sure_ you want to give me _these_ flowers in particular?” she asked him calmly. When he merely blinked at her, she merely raised the other eyebrow, nodding at the bouquet. Following her nod, he took a closer look… and finally clued in to what she was trying to tell him. He abruptly lost all colour.

“Oh, I am so sorry, Miss Baggins!” he pressed out, hiding the flowers behind his back, pushing his rotund gut out instead, making the buttons of his shirt strain. Bilbo hadn’t been interested in Tolman _before_ she met Fíli, she sure as all wasn’t going to look twice at him now. “I-, I will get you som- something better!”

Oh no! She didn’t think so. As kindly as she could muster, she took those ideas out of his head. For good this time hopefully.

“Tolman, I think it is time for you to give up this folly.” She stepped around him to unlock the door. “We will not make a good match, so please turn your attention elsewhere. I am fairly sure there is quite a sweet Rumble-lass waiting for you, if only you care to look closer.” Bilbo felt sorry for outing Turnip Rumble’s feelings like this, she really was, but everybody would be better off in the end for it. With any luck that is. “Now, if you would excuse me, I have been out on a long walking holiday and I am in much need of a cup of tea. Good day to you.” With that said she closed to door in his face.

 

-

 

The sad thing about living on top of each other as they did on this journey, was that it was really hard to keep secrets. And not just things like having to squat behind a bush to answer Nature’s call, but more intimate secrets, some more intimate than others. But secrets aside, and every dwarf had plenty, what a mess this journey had turned out to be… well, so far that is. Especially when they ended up nearly losing half the Company to battling stone giants, or running through a mountain full of goblins or falling off of cliffs. Finding out that Azog was very much still alive was adding insult to injury at that point really. At least they had found some shiny new swords in that troll cave and wasn’t it fortunate that Tharkûn decided to show up when he did to save them all from ending up as stew? Only the batty old wizard would come up with the brilliant idea to talk about parasites and tubes while a knot of dwarves lay on the ground seething in anger. And whose fault had it been that they had lost the ponies to begin with, huh? Actually, that might’ve been Fíli's and Kíli's fault. But still! Parasites!

Fíli was only thankful that the tree they had all been dangling from at the end of those rather stressful days, had given way and they'd all fallen before his uncle had done something stupid, like running to face the Pale Orc on his own. He was also ridiculously grateful that the eagles had shown up when they did because he hadn’t been the only one screaming as he fell from the cliff. Dwarves were obviously not made for flying but that hadn’t stopped him from throwing himself to the side to catch the locket as he saw it, just a second too late, slide over large feathers. In all the tussling, fighting and falling the delicate chain had broken and Fíli only knew because he suddenly felt it slide off his neck. He had indeed, thrown himself off the humongous bird to catch it before he could lose it forever, much to the eagle’s dismay and Kíli's, and the rest of the Company’s, horror. But he'd caught it, and been caught so no foul no harm! Right?

 

“What were you _thinking_!?” Thorin roared the second they had landed on the Carrock and slid off the eagles’ backs. “Do you have a death wish!?”

“No, uncle.” Fíli answered lowly, unable to meet his uncle’s gaze where he had sunk down, his legs no longer able to carry him. Saying that he had had full confidence in the bird catching him, which it had, was probably the wrong thing to say right now. “I am sorry for scaring you, uncle.”

“Then _why_ did you suddenly decide to throw yourself _off_ of the very bird who saved your _life_!?”

When Fíli refused to answer, Kíli stepped in. Being an archer, he had the keenest eyes, and he had _seen_ why.

“Uncle,” he said softly. “Fíli did not risk himself for nothing, he was merely trying to save something before he lost it.”

“ _What_ could possibly be so important he would risk his _life_ for it?”

“A keepsake from his One.” the younger dwarf replied lowly after a moment’s hesitation.

Fíli's hand trembled when he lifted it to show the locket and the broken chain.

Shocked silence followed, Thorin staring at his silent nephew as if he had never seen him before.

“Your One?” he choked out, turning his gaze to the locket in Fíli's hand. It was small and silver, delicate, obviously made with a lady in mind more than a male, and certainly no dwarf of such. Oh, so carefully he took the locket to look at it, opening it gently to see the lock of honey blonde hair within. Most likely, whoever it was that had given Fíli this, had no idea what giving a lock of your hair meant to a dwarf. “When did you meet her?” he rasped, carefully returning the locket to its rightful owner.

“In Bree.” Fíli answered lowly.

“Why did you not say anything?”

“Because I feared you would have left me behind.” Fíli finally met his uncle’s eyes, surprised to see sadness in them. “I was worried you would send me back to Ered Luin, back to mother.”

“Of course I would have!” Thorin pressed out, coming up to hold his precious nephew closer. “Fíli, Ones are so _rare_ and for you to have found yours… why would you risk such a gift by coming with us?”

“Because you are my King as much as my uncle, and I pledged my loyalty to you.”

 

The older dwarf swallowed hard, taking a step back to look into his sister-son’s eyes. There was wisdom there, too much for Fíli's age, a great deal of Thorin's own stubbornness… and sorrow too. Fíli knew like everybody else in the Company that the chances of him returning were slim. That one night in Bree might be all the time he'd ever get with his One. Suddenly, risking his nephews’ lives to retake Erebor seemed to pointless. He shouldn’t have made them come… and Fíli, he had a _One_. Ones were _sacred_ for a reason, and for Fíli to have been so blessed…

Well, there was no turning back now. So instead of saying any more on the matter, Thorin took off one of the silver chains he wore.

“Here,” he said softly. “It is sturdier than the broken one, less risk of losing that locket again.”

“Thank you, uncle.” Fíli pressed out gratefully, accepting the gesture for what it was.

And that’s when Dwalin decided to break the tension and he sure knew how to break it gracefully.

“I guess tha’ is why ye managed to keep up for as long as ye did, lad. We were truly impressed with ye aft’r a while.”

There was nothing for Fíli to do but to swallow the humiliation and accept it as the surrounding dwarrow laughed.

 

-

 

At first, Bilbo had been too scared to hope. No, she wasn’t going to put all her eggs in the same basket and end up heartbroken if it turned out she was wrong. But her bleedings stopped, and the mere thought of anything fried in the morning had her running for the bathroom, having her opting for plain toast with butter for first breakfast, instead of porridge. And she didn’t even eat second breakfast. Her breasts were suddenly uncomfortably tender, swollen… not to mention, Bilbo had never had any particular craving for pickles before, and certainly not for eggs or fresh fruit. When her belly finally started growing, Bilbo wept with joy. _‘Sweet Yavanna, please protect Fíli wherever he may be, for he has given me the most precious of gifts.’_ she thought euphorically while working to turn her old room into a nursery. Bilbo hadn’t even known dwarves and hobbits were compatible that way! She had assumed her time with Fíli had been a night of indulging herself for the sheer fun of it, for the pleasure they had given and taken in each other. She had thought him a consolation prize for having been stood up but what they had shared had left her heart aching for him… and now this.

She swallowed hard, remembering that she would never meet him again. Even now, months after she had snuck out of The Prancing Pony in the early morn, before the sunrise, she remembered him with crystal clarity. She easily recalled his smile, the look in those wonderful cerulean eyes as they looked at her, his hands, so strong yet so gentle with her. And in the life growing under her heart, she had a piece of him to keep.

 

Of course, the moment Bilbo started showing, that was the moment she could finally breathe out in peace, finally being left alone by her ‘suitors’. Good riddance! Then again, that was also when the grapevine of the Shire started working on overdrive because wasn’t that the juiciest piece of gossip you had ever heard? Respectable _Bilbo Baggins_ in the family way? And with no husband at her side? Why, it was a scandal! Who had she given herself to that way? Poor girl! Surely there must be someone who would be willing to marry her for the sake of her respectability?

And oh, Bilbo was sure there was but caring not one lick for nasty rumours or reputations, she let it be known loud and clear, that there would be no pity marriages just because she was with child. Not that that stopped the gossiping hobbits from whispering about her, or looking after her as she proudly showed her pregnant belly as she went to the markets, rather than hide it as was proper for a lady in her position. No, Bilbo Baggins was most certainly _not_ ashamed of her love child. Quite the opposite. And being pregnant made her positively _glow_ with joy.

 

While her Baggins relations were horrified to know of her situation, the Took-half of her family cackled with glee when she stuck it to the nosy people of Hobbiton. They were more than happy to help and congratulate her on her blessed state. Well, the Old Took was perhaps a bit worried about there being no fellow for her to lean on in the trying times to come, but a few gentle words calmed him down easily enough. He was the _only_ one Bilbo had told about Fíli, about how they had met and what she had felt that night. He had given her the softest look she had ever seen on the old hobbit’s face then, before pressing a very gentle kiss to her forehead.

“You are blessed, my child.” he had murmured softly. “What you have found in your dwarf is something so rare that hobbits have not seen the likes in many generations. Most have never even heard of it outside of fairytales.” His eyes had sparkled with unshed tears. “But your mother found it in her Bungo, so blessed be you and your child.”

It made her heart clench hearing him say that and it was with his blessing, and a muttered promise of retaliation to anyone who should cause her any grief, that Bilbo returned home from Tuckborough. Upon returning to Bag End she was met with the Gamgees and she got all weepy when Bell Gamgee immediately ushered her inside, told her to sit down while the other made her a pot of tea. And no, Miss Baggins had no say in the matter, Bell and her Hamfast were going to help her as much as she needed before and after the bairn had arrived.

 

They were the only ones Bilbo told that her child would be half-dwarf. Granted, that information was going to come out the moment the fauntling was born, but she knew how cruel hobbits could be and she wanted no harm to the gentle Gamgees and their good name just from associating with the social pariah that Bilbo had become. The choice words that Hamfast had had to say about _that_ better not be repeated. And Bell agreed. The Bagginses of Bag End had always treated them with outmost respect and kindness and if they could repay that kindness then they bloody well would! And gossipy hobbits could say whatever they so desired about that! For the first time since she had lost her parents, Bilbo felt as if she was part of a family again.

 

-

 

Fíli _hated_ Mirkwood with a burning passion. He absolutely _loathed_ it and how it made him see things that weren’t there. Every night he slept close to Kíli, the brothers staying as close together as possible not to lose one another in the cursed forest where no natural sunlight reached them. At least they had survived the spiders, somehow, many of the dwarrow were still weak from having been stung but Oín had managed to patch them up to the best of his ability, and with what remedies he had. Fíli's heart _ached_ every time he was on watch and he swore he saw a small woman with honey blonde curls disappear around a thick tree trunk, the sound of pearling laughter haunting him, taunting him to hurry after. Those were the nights when he and Kíli slept like puppies, the younger dwarf instinctively knowing what his brother felt and thus offered what comfort he could. Their dwindling supplies didn’t help matters much at all. If anything, it left them weaker and it was almost a relief when the elves found them and brought them to their court… where they were all thrown in prison. At least they weren’t starving.

 

Fíli sat on the straw cot in his cell, carefully rubbing his thumb over the little silver locket. The delicate flowers on the front were worn from constantly rubbing against textile and leather and skin, grime caught in-between the tiny leaves and petals, after the long journey. But at least he still had it. One of the elves had nearly taken it from him upon relieving him of all his weapons, well, _almost_ all his weapons, Fíli was smarter than that, and had earned himself a broken nose in the process. Even as they had been rudely shoved into their current accommodations, Dwalin had loudly congratulated the young heir on being fast enough to actually land a punch on one of the poncy tree-shaggers. The rest of the Company had cheered loudly, even as Fíli _snarled_ at the elf to get his sticky twigs off of his One’s locket. Even Thorin had looked impressed at the pure venom in his nephew’s voice and it sure had gotten the point across to the elves. Obviously, it was worth letting him keep it rather than risk any more injury trying to take it from him. Had they opened it, Fíli might have just gone rogue.

 

He sighed where he sat, thinking back on that night at the inn. Rowan had smiled at him in so many different ways, coyly, happily, slyly and confidently. Her jade green eyes had glittered with equally many different emotions, watching him and his every reaction to her touch. She hadn’t been shy at all, she had helped herself to all of him, but not once had she been selfish in her ministrations. As much as her exploring and mapping of him had brought her joy, she had made sure he enjoyed it just as much, if not more. And in between their bouts of lovemaking, she had been so soft and careful with him. She certainly had no need to be, Fíli was a skilled warrior after all and he had endured things much worse than she could ever dole out, but perhaps it was _because_ he was used to heavy blows and violence, she had made all the bigger point of it. Her hands had been soothing over his skin as they calmed down from yet another peak, breathing hard and tingling as they were, and she had looked at him as if she had never seen such a wonder before.

Now, Fíli was fairly aware of his looks, he was certainly popular enough amongst his own kin, and even a few women of Men, even two on one memorable occasion, but Bilbo hadn’t looked at him like they had. She had _seen_ him, she had seen _him_ , Fíli. And he had never felt that exposed before. Yet he hadn’t felt vulnerable at all, he had felt completely safe in her small delicate hands.

 

He pressed out another sigh, letting his head fall back against the wall behind him. They were going to rot in Thranduil's dungeons and he would never get to see Rowan again. His hand reflexively tightened in the small locket. There _had_ to be a way out! He had to get out of this bloody cell so he could help his uncle reclaim Erebor, and once that was done there was nothing short of Mahal himself standing in his way that would stop Fíli from going back to Bree to find that elusive little hobbit! He had expected to wake up with her in his arms, to nuzzle her hair and inhale her scent, _their_ scent after all the lovemaking they'd indulged in, and kiss her goodbye. He had wanted the time it would have taken him to get dressed to explain to her why he had to leave, that he would come back for her as soon as he could… waking up to the spot next to him being empty and cold had hurt more than Fíli cared to think about. Seeing her gone had been agony. But she had left a piece of herself and it was very much a promise Fíli intended to keep. _‘I will return to you, Rowan, not even Smaug will stop me.’_ Kissing the locket softly, he carefully put it back inside his tunic… only to blink when the cell door suddenly opened.

“Kíli?”

“Get up, brother.” Kíli pressed out a tired smile, coming in to help his brother up and into a tight hug. They stayed like that for a long time, their foreheads pressed together, ignoring the mutterings from the other dwarves about getting a move on already.

“How?”

“Tharkûn.” Kíli shrugged. “I guess he returned from wherever it was he buzzed off to before we entered the forest. He has spoken to the Elf King.”

“So uncle Thorin is furious I take it?”

The wince was answer enough.

 

Sighing heavily the two brothers joined the others and followed the elven guards through the maze of corridors and hallways until they stood before Thranduil himself. One didn’t have to be a genius to see that the Elvenking wasn’t happy about this new turn of events, most likely he would have taken much pleasure in seeing Thorin rot away in one of his cells but alas, it was not meant to be. At the back of his mind Fíli was grateful for the batty wizard sticking his nose into their business because if not, he would _definitely_ not have gotten out of that cell anytime soon. Tharkûn stood next to the tall elf, leaning a tad on his staff as he was wont to do, offering the disgruntled dwarrow a jolly little smile.

“Lord Thranduil has very generously offered to escort us out of Mirkwood.”

One glance at the elf in question’s face told them that Thranduil had offered no such thing. Knowing the wizard, most likely he had been strong-armed into it. Some of the dwarves didn’t bother hiding their grins which certainly didn’t endear them to the royal elf. Thranduil looked like he wanted to cut them at the ankles.

“How very generous.” Thorin pressed out through gritted teeth, lightly tilting his head at the Elvenking, forcing the other to return the gesture for sake of conduct. “Shall we be getting supplies for our journey too?”

Okay, now even Fíli couldn’t hide the shit-eating grin. Every once in a while, the dance of politics did serve its purpose.

 

-

 

Getting the dragon out of the mountain had been-… interesting. Yes, interesting. That’s a good word. Another fitting word would be ‘challenging’… or even ‘ludicrous’. Getting a dragon _into_ your mountain was a lot easier than getting him out as it turned out. If Fíli hadn’t been so busy trying to _survive_ as he and Kíli ran through the halls of the city, trying to help the others, to lure the bleedin' firedrake down to the forges where they could try caking him in gold, Fíli might have been tempted to laugh and curse at the entire situation. Laugh, because a big lizard that old and wise shouldn’t be so easy to taunt. And curse, because no sooner had they gotten the dragon out, Fíli felt bad for the people of Laketown, he really did, his uncle went and lost his head to gold-fever. With Bard the Bowman having taken care of Smaug, and there was some serious awe for the man, the dwarves of Erebor suddenly faced a new dilemma. Thorin himself. Fíli had heard of gold-sickness, of course he had. He and Kíli had grown up with sad tales of their grandfather and great-grandfather succumbing to the illness, of how they had stopped caring for their people, their families, and turned their entire attention to the treasury. If the Arkenstone was somewhere in the mountains and mountains of gold within the Lonely Mountain, then Fíli never wanted it found. The mere thought of it had Thorin mad for gold and power, so delirious that he would not stop searching for it even to eat or rest. And much to Fíli's horror, he saw the fever spread to the other dwarves… even his brother.

 

As Fíli despaired for his family, war came to their gates. Elves and Men demanded shares of the treasure and while Fíli would have gladly given them what they asked for, it wasn’t much, Thorin refused. Even as the ground trembled, orcs and goblins pouring out of the ground to attack the armies of Thranduil and Dáin outside their barricaded gates, Thorin would not see reason. In the end Fíli snapped. Having failed to get through to his uncle using words, he ended up flying at him using his fists instead. Heavily encumbered in his heavy armour and regalia as he was, there wasn’t much Thorin could do to block the flying fists of his young nephew as they repeatedly slammed into his face.

“OPEN YOUR EYES, THORIN!” Fíli roared, holding on to the furred collar underneath him. “LOOK AT WHAT YOU HAVE BECOME!”

Thorin snarled.

Fíli punched him again.

“You _promised_ us you would _never_ become like your father, like Thraín _or_ Thrór, but look at you! You are not the uncle I grew up loving!” Fíli's voice cracked. “You are wasting _lives_! For gold and gems! There are _dwarves_ out there fighting _for you_ and you sit in your mountain counting coin! Uncle, snap out of it! GO OUT THERE AND HELP THEM!”

Blue eyes stared into blue eyes, one set blank, the other despairing. Thorin opened his mouth to reply, to snarl again, to say something about the Arkenstone, of it being his birthright, of how he was _King Under the Mountain_ , when he suddenly stopped… and stared.

The small silver locket had slid out from under Fíli's shirt, dangling above Thorin's face. A small locket on a simple silver chain, not worth much at all, covered in dirt and sweat yet well-worn and loved… opening to let strands of honey golden hair fall out and softly flutter down onto Thorin's face.

As if time had slowed down for him to see it clearer, Thorin saw how raw anguish filled his beloved nephew’s features, how tears filled those cerulean blue eyes as they watched the silky strands of hair, no longer safely locked away.

 

“No…” Fíli whispered, his voice cracking on a low sob.

And everything came back to Thorin, reality slamming into him as if Mahal himself had struck him in the chest with his hammer. They had reclaimed Erebor, not for the treasure but for her _people_ , so the dwarves could come home again, so they could return to a safe place where they didn’t earn half of what their work was worth yet worked themselves into the ground, just so they could eat. He had reclaimed Erebor to bring back his _family_ , to see his nephews safe and sound, to give them their patrimony… and here sat Fíli, crying desperate tears, fingertips brushing so carefully over the face he had just pummelled, because _Fíli's_ greatest treasure was the lock of his One’s hair and that hair was currently spread over Thorin's face. _Fíli_ had a _One_ , something so rare and cherished that Thorin hadn’t seen someone paired like that in over a hundred years!

Pale blue eyes widened, staring at his beloved nephew.

“Fíli…” Thorin rasped, suddenly holding on desperately to the younger dwarf’s lapels.

“Please, Uncle Thorin,” Fíli pressed out, looking into wide horrified eyes with sorrow in his own blues. “Go out there and _lead_ them and I promise, I will _follow_ you… for you are my King.”

Not long after, Thorin, Fíli and Kíli, boomed out of the mountain to lead their people in war.

 

-

 

“It is quite normal to be scared, Miss Baggins, especially for a first time.”

“I am not scared.” Bilbo replied calmly, staring out the window at the snow falling heavily outside. Any other day she might have thought the pristine white pretty but not this time. Something was wrong and she wasn’t entirely sure what that was. There was a constant ache in her heart and she _knew_ it had something to do with her dwarf, wherever he may be. More and more she found herself sending desperate prayers to Yavanna, even a few to Aulë, for surely the Maker of the Dwarves would answer prayers to save one of his children? Then another contraction hit and Bilbo found herself leaning heavily on the bench beneath the window, trying to breathe while praying for something else entirely. She whimpered. _‘I want Fíli.’_ she thought desperately. _‘Please return to me from wherever you may be, I need you!’_

“Come on now, Miss Baggins,” Bell chastised her for having gotten out of bed. Again. “Not long now, I am sure of it. The contractions come much faster now. There, there, lay down.”

Being an old hand at childbirth, Bell Gamgee knew what she was talking about. Though she hoped the fact that Bilbo's child was half-dwarf wouldn’t complicate things, at least not too much. Dwarves were bigger than hobbits and she knew there was a lass somewhere in Michel Delving who had had run off with a Man and ended up in a lot of trouble when she was due. She had survived it, but only because of several skilled midwives.

They both blinked when the door opened and Eglantine and Esmeralda came in, carrying clean towels and a bowl of hot water.

“How far along are we?”

“Not long now.” Bell answered just as another contraction hit Bilbo, ripping an anguished moan out of her.

“Good. We are ready to welcome this babe into the world.” Esmeralda grinned widely, earning a truly vile glare from her cousin. Then the next one hit, much stronger than any other. Bilbo screamed.

Many hours later it was an exhausted Bilbo who held a small creature to her chest, her very own child. Smiling softly she held a tiny hand, smiling even wider when the babe immediately grasped her finger to hold. The others had cleared out a while ago but she knew they would be back soon enough to take care of her and help her. But for now, it was only her and her new-born.

“Welcome to the world, my darling.” she whispered softly. “Welcome, my blessed gift.”


	3. Chapter 3

Smaug was dead, Azog was dead, and so were many brave dwarves, there were so many dead outside the Lonely Mountain it hurt to think about their losses… but they had done it. They had reclaimed Erebor for the dwarrow to come home to. Many of Dáin’s soldiers stayed behind to help rebuild and defend, even some of the elves lingered to give a hand where they could. Thankfully, most of them were healers. Perchance, seeing the slaughter of innocent Men, hiding in Dale, had put a crack in Thranduil's cold heart, making the Elvenking leave some of his healers behind to give aid in what way they could. Whatever it was, the Company was grateful for it for by the time the elves got to them, the line of Durin hung on by a thread. Even the skilled healers of the Woodland Elves couldn’t say for sure if the King and his heirs would pull through… but by some miracle they did.

 

It took _months_ for Fíli to heal to the point where he could walk more than a few steps without getting exhausted, and it took even longer still for him to take the throne. Kíli had never truly been trained in statecraft, not like Fíli, and the dwarves steadily returning to the mountain from Ered Luin wouldn’t have accepted him anyway. Not that Kíli was in better shape than Fíli, but at least he hadn’t almost ended up being garrotted out on the battlefield. As for Thorin… the true King under the mountain had been so badly injured that for a while, Oín swore his heart had stopped beating. Somehow, he had come back to them but even so, with the damage to his body, no one really knew if he would be able to get strong enough to rule. If it hadn’t been for the unyielding support of his brother, Fíli wasn’t entirely sure he would have been able to shoulder the responsibility of ruling in his uncle’s absence. Balin was there with him every step of the way, always a kind word and sound advice for him to listen to, always there to tell him he had to rest because if he collapsed they'd be stuck with Kíli for King and then where would they be? Fíli shouldn’t find the thought hilarious but he did and he had to laugh because if he didn’t laugh at _something_ he would lose his mind. With every beat of his heart he felt an ever growing pull towards the west and no matter how dearly he wanted to just ignore everything else and _go_ , he knew he couldn’t. Not as long as his uncle lay in his bed in deep healing sleep.

 

Things got easier once their mother finally arrived. Dís knew her son well and it hadn’t taken her long to wheedle the truth out of him about the locket he wore. At first she had been shocked to hear of it, then overjoyed… only to land on heartbroken when she realised that there was no way her oldest could go to his One as long as he was ruling in Thorin's place.

 

A full year later, when buds had started to sprout on the trees once more, spring bringing warmer winds, only then did Thorin finally open his eyes. He was gaunt then, a shadow of the man that had set out to retake what had once been his, but his eyes were bright and clear, if not tired. Whatever gold-sickness he had had, it had left him completely. Thank Mahal. At first Thorin didn’t wish to rule, so deeply ashamed of his actions and words, of how he had treated his precious nephews, but the brothers spoke to him, forgave him for everything and convinced him that he was still _their_ King and they still wished to follow him and learn from him. He was also their uncle after all and they loved him. Likewise, his sister may or may not have relayed him with a few choice words of her own on the matter. Not long after Kíli and Dís had left the room however, Thorin turned tired eyes to his heir. His hand when he gently took Fíli's was frail… but it would get stronger.

“You saved me, Fíli.” he rasped, his voice still hoarse from disuse. “ _You_ , with your words, and your love.” Thorin mumbled. “I saw your locket and suddenly I remembered. You left your One behind to follow me, to come here and fight for this idea your foolish uncle had in his head, not knowing if you would ever see her again. _Your One_ , a gift from Mahal himself. I did not want to be the one to stand in your way, still do not. Fíli, my boy, when I am strong enough to take over, I want you to go back west,” His hand tightened as much as he could muster as steely blue eyes met surprised cerulean. “Go to the Kindly West and bring your One home.”

“I am not sure a hobbit would be so eager to leave the Shire, uncle.” Fíli murmured, holding on to that frail hand as hard as he dared. “They are not travellers like us dwarrow, they are born and raised in their Shire, and that is where they die.”

“Then stay for as long as it takes to convince her.” came the soft answer. “She is your One, and your future queen, she will understand.”

All Fíli could do was nod and hold onto hope.

 

-

 

Despite his best efforts to leave sooner, it seemed as if the fates had ganged up on him. Thorin healed slowly, it took him almost a full year before he was strong enough to start taking over his true duties and by that point Fíli was essentially climbing walls to get going. There was so much to consider, to do, so many council meetings to attend, so many decisions to make and so little time. Fíli tried to shoulder as much as possible of the obligations while his uncle got back into the hang of things, but at the same time he needed strength training himself for the leg that had nearly been crushed in what the scholars were already calling the Battle of the Five Armies. Kíli wasn’t much better. It took him a long time before he had the strength to draw a bowstring properly again, and even longer for him to get back to where he had been before. Dwalin was merciless in his effort to get the lads back to their former shape, constantly pushing them to try harder. They had grumbled about that on more than one occasion. The warrior had walked away from the battlefield with a few cuts and bruises and a bump on his bald head whereas Fíli had had a badly injured leg, several arrows to his back and his throat nearly slit open. Kíli's arm had almost been torn clean off and his chest had more or less been turned into a pincushion. Neither had exactly been slacking ever since they had been strong enough to even sit on their own.

 

Then Fíli caught a nasty illness and ended up bedridden for a month. At least he no longer had to deal with the old coots of the various councils anymore, that’s got to count for something positive, although he hardly enjoyed coughing up his lungs every other minute either. Once back on his feet, Fíli had to help Dwalin and his guards tackle the increasing orc-raids that had been plaguing Dale and Erebor and that had taken more time than he had been willing to give. By the time he had finally caught a break winter came along and swept the Lonely Mountain and its surroundings into a thick swath of white, making travel impossible. He could barely go to Dale, let alone cross the Misty Mountains. Fíli wanted to scream in frustration, he wanted to rip his hair! But he had no other choice but to hunker down with the rest of his kin and wait it out.

 

By the time the winter storms _finally_ eased, Fíli was done waiting. He wasn’t going to wait another day longer. He packed his things, donned his travel worn clothes, his armour, weapons and slung his pack over his shoulder. As much as he loved Erebor he was suffocating beneath her impossible weight. His heart had called him back west ever since he left for the east and by Mahal's bloody _Balls_ , he was going back to find his One _now_ and not a moment later!

He shouldn’t have been surprised to come down to the stables and find his family there, waiting with a group of guards, all dressed and packed for a long journey. Fíli blinked comically.

 

“What is going on?”

“Do you really think we would let you go on your own, dear nephew?” Thorin chuckled lowly. He was still thin for a dwarf, still weaker than he had been, but he was ever so steadily getting better. And a sign of his healing, physical and mental, not to mention emotional, was the beard he had at long last started to grow out.

“Thorin cannot leave, as I am sure you understand.” Dís grinned at her oldest, casually opening his pack to put in a truly ridiculously large coin pouch. As if Fíli hadn’t packed enough coin for the journey already. “And I cannot leave either, saddled with taking care of him as I am.” She graciously ignored the snort from her older brother. “And I am sorry but, Kíli, you are not going either.”

“What!” Kíli wailed, packed for the journey as he was. “Fíli and I have never been apart before! No, I am going with him!”

“Kíli.” Thorin rumbled. “You are needed here. If something was to happen to Fíli, and Mahal forbid it, you are the heir to the throne. As much as I would love to send you both, I cannot do that.”

As much as Kíli would’ve loved to dispute that, he knew his uncle was right. Looking pained he pulled his only brother into a tight hug, tightening still when Fíli held him back just as hard.

“Go find her, brother.” he murmured into Fíli's ear. “And then bring her home to us. We are all blessed because of you _and_ her.”

Fíli held on for a moment longer, then hugged his mother and uncle just as hard. After a few more words of good luck on the journey he swung himself into the saddle of his pony, nodding at his guards, and set out of Erebor.

 

-

 

The journey back to the Shire went a lot smoother than the initial quest had, thankfully. They stayed at inns whenever they could, taking care not to attract too much attention, well, _less_ attention. They were still a knot of heavily armed dwarrow, curious minds need not know that one of them was the Crown Prince of Erebor. Bofur, Glóin, Dori and Nori tried their best to keep Fíli's mood up but even to the solemn guards that accompanied them it was obvious that the heir was anxious. Was Rowan still there? Did she wait for him to return? …had she married? No, she couldn’t have. Could she?

Fíli sighed where he sat, unconsciously reaching for the locket. It was his one hope, and though he had lost the gift within, he still prayed to Mahal that Rowan would be there.

“Cheer up, lad!” Glóin chuckled, patting the blond over the back… damn near sending him nose first into the table. “The little lass will surely be right where ya left ‘er!”

“Well, that is just the thing, is it not, Master Glóin?” Fíli muttered. “ _I_ am not the one who left someone sleeping in a bed in Bree, _she_ left _me_.”

The redheaded dwarf blinked. He hadn’t known about that.

“Oh… uh… well, we will find ‘er, do not worry.”

“How can I not? I have not seen her in years! Does she even remember me? We only had one night together!”

“She is ye’r One, is she not?” Bofur replied softly. “She will not have forgotten ye, of tha’ I am sure.”

The other dwarrow enthusiastically agreed, loudly trying to cheery him up. Eventually Fíli couldn’t help smiling. Yeah, she’d remember him. And with the tempo at which they travelled, chasing spring across the mountains, they should be there soon enough, and _that’s_ when the real problems began.

 

-

 

As much as Fíli would have loved to start searching the very moment he arrived in Bree he knew he couldn’t. He and his guards were all exhausted from having pushed harder the last couple of days and they positively stumbled by the time they reached the town. They stabled the ponies, got themselves rooms at The Prancing Pony, and promptly conked out. Fíli found it ironic that he ended up in the very same room as last time, something both Nori and Bofur cackled in glee at him for. He offered them a less innocent hand gesture for their effort, earning himself loud laughter in return, before closing the door in their faces. One of the burliest guards, a good loyal man according to Dwalin, shared the room with him and even Fíli who had more sense than Kíli on a good day, found the protection a bit excessive. Not that voicing that opinion had changed anything, he was _heir_ and as such they needed to keep an eye on him. Fíli snorted.

Having stripped off his layers he fell into bed, the same from _then_ and as his eyes fluttered closed he _swore_ he felt a whiff of Rowan’s scent.

 

-

 

After a hearty breakfast Dori had _made_ him eat before he could as much as think of running off questioning the locals, Fíli went up to Nob, the hobbit working the bar. The smaller man smiled at him while cutting up thick slices of bread to be brought to another table.

“What can I do for you, Master Dwarf?” he chirped happily. “Is everything to your satisfaction, sir?”

“Why yes, yes it is, Master Nob. Though I have a question, if I may?”

The hobbit frowned at him, obviously confused but nodded nonetheless.

“Of course?” he replied unsurely. “I will help if I can.”

“Do you, by any chance, happen to know a hobbit lass by the name of ‘Rowan’?” Fíli rasped. “She has light hair, like honey it is, and green eyes. She stayed here years ago. I do understand that is too long to remember, but perhaps she is a returning patron?”

“Rowan?” Nob asked, trying to remember if he knew someone with that name. “No, I cannot say I do, Master Dwarf. There are a lot of hobbits coming and going here in Bree you see? Maybe if you ask in Budgeford, sir?” The hobbit nodded to himself. “Yes,” He turned a kind smile to the blond. “Try in Budgeford.”

 

They tried in Budgeford. No hobbit there knew of a lass called Rowan. They were sent along to Woodhall, but had no more luck there, if any of the hobbits they asked knew of Rowan, they weren’t talking.

And they say dwarrow were a suspicious lot.

Then they were sent to Michel Delving. It took them a whole day to get there and by the time they had gotten that far, Fíli wasn’t the only one who had started to lose his patience. Even Bofur, ever cheerful Bofur, was starting to scowl at the little creatures scattering as soon as the dwarrow came within sight. But that was perhaps due to the warriors and their many sharp weapons. Nori disappeared off in one direction to ask, Bofur and Dori in another, a few of the guards in yet a third, while Fíli and the remaining two guards went to ask the Mayor. Surely the Mayor would know who lived in the Shire and where.

 

The portly hobbit watched Fíli with beady eyes, intelligent no doubt, but not easily intimidated either.

“A ‘Rowan’ you say, Master Dwarf?” he asked calmly over the cup of tea he was sipping on. “No, I do not think I know any such hobbit.”

Years of having dealt with stubborn, and often greedy people, not to forget having ruled in his uncle’s stead, was the only thing that kept Fíli calm and not reaching for one of his many daggers. Oh, he knew the type alright. He also knew how to handle them easiest, with a minimum of blood spilled.

Raising a sharp eyebrow, the young prince just as calmly slid a small pouch across the table.

“Please, Master Hobbit,” he asked calmly. “Try remembering again.”

The Mayor eyed the pouch, then sipped his tea once more. Without looking up he offered the dwarf a little smile.

“Tuckborough.” he replied. “I seem to recall a lass with that name in Tuckborough.”

They stayed the night at the inn in Michel Delving, all ready to set out for Tuckborough first thing in the morning. Fíli didn’t get much sleep that night.

 

-

 

The hobbit that looked at him seemed surprised to see him to say the least. Not to mention the equally blinking company behind him.

“A- are you Rowan, Miss Hobbit?” Fíli pressed out, suddenly horrified at the truth staring him in the face.

“Yes?” she answered him unsurely. “Rowan Took, a warm hearth to you.”

Suddenly unsure on how to proceed from there, the name had been his only clue, Fíli merely blinked at her.

“I-… I am sorry, Miss Took,” he found himself stammering. “I am a bit confused, I was looking for a hobbit named ‘Rowan’ but I seem to remember the name wrong.”

“Oh, I am so sorry to hear that, Master Dwarf.” Rowan replied sadly, sympathy in her warm brown eyes when she saw how genuinely lost he seemed. “Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No, I-…” Fíli swallowed hard. “I will manage, but thank you, Miss Took.” He pressed out a smile, bowing slightly to show his gratitude for the offer.

 

As they left, Nori suddenly elbowed him in the side, nodding to Fíli's left. Frowning slightly, he turned and saw yet another hobbit lass, coming down the road carrying a basket. She stopped when she saw them though, and Fíli in particular. This hobbit however didn’t look at him with worry or distrust, no, this one looked at him with narrowed eyes… as if she had seen him before. Then a tiny little smile graced her features as she walked up to him, clearly not scared of them at all.

“Master Dwarf?”

“Yes?”

 “I am Primula Baggins, a warmth hearth to you.” Her smile widened. “I think I know who you are looking for.”

 

-

 

Fíli's heart thundered against his ribs as he more or less rushed from Tuckborough, towards Hobbiton. Primula hadn’t given him a name to ask for, but then again, she had said that he didn’t need one anymore because she knew who he was in the Shire in search for. There had been a twinkle in her eyes as she gave him directions for where to go, saying that he needn’t worry, he would be most welcome. With that said, she had bid him a good day and sauntered off towards Tuckborough. Only the loud clatter of armour and weapons told Fíli that his friends kept up pace with him. They would have taken the ponies but Fíli had no time to lose and so he ran, leaving Glóin to bark an order for the rest of the guards to go fetch them and catch up.

‘ _The one you are looking for lives on the other side of Hobbiton, Master Dwarf, in Bag End, under the hill.’_

The words rolled around Fíli's mind like marbles, echoing a hope that had kept him alive for almost four years! He ignored the stares as he marched through the hobbit town, and stare they did, at this knot of dwarrow trooping through their everyday lives. Only on the other side and out of the town did he suddenly find himself lost. Every hill looked the same and he had no idea which door to knock on. Spotting a small lady wearing a truly ghastly hat on her head further up the road, he hurried up to her to ask for directions.

“Excuse me, Miss Hobbit, I am looking for Bag End.”

She turned around, and nearly yelped in fright when she saw the dwarves, not even wheezing after their run. Having realised that they weren’t going to hurt her she levelled them with a genuinely impressive scowl, one that easily rivalled Thorin's when he was in the worst of moods. That is, until she spotted the silver locket hanging from around the prince’s neck.

“ _Where_ did you get that!?” she gasped. Faster than any of them could have predicted she darted forward and ripped it loose from its chain.

 

Something buzzed in Fíli's ears. Oh so calmly he unsheathed his swords, in the corner of his eye seeing his companions readying their own weapons. From somewhere behind him he thought he heard the guards come thundering, clearly seeing their prince and heir ready for battle.

“Miss,” he said lowly, tightening his grip on his swords. He doubted she was aware of Nori having sidled up behind her. “You can return that to me, or I will retrieve it from your cooling corpse.”

Now, Fíli was a Prince of Erebor, the Heir Apparent to the throne, he had been lectured and trained in manners and proper conduct by Balin since he had been but a wee lad, however, as of right now, he no longer viewed this particular hobbit as anything worthy of such efforts. For all he cared, she could be the next target for his blades. You didn’t steal from a dwarf if you valued your life and you certainly didn’t steal a dwarf’s love token from their One. He tilted his head a little to the side. “Which is it going to be, hm? You can return to me what is mine, or you can lose your head before I take it back from you.”

To make sure she came to the wiser decision, Nori oh so carefully placed the sharp blade of a dagger to her neck, earning himself a meep. The hobbit, trembling as she was, threw the locket at the blond who caught it easily, and ran away the moment the danger to her throat was gone. Glóin looked after her, sighing heavily while putting away his axes. Dori slung his heavy sword over his back, eyeing his prince worriedly.

“We will have to find another, more reasonable, hobbit to ask for directions.” he muttered.

 

Not long after, yet several uncooperative hobbits later, Fíli stared up at a round green door from outside a small wooden gate. _‘Bag End.’_ It looked peaceful, tranquil even, with pots of flowers growing outside and a meticulously well-kept garden. One of the windows was open and from there mouth-watering smells wafted down towards the dwarrow. They followed him in through the gate, but stayed there rather than continuing up the steps towards the door, as if they knew that Fíli wanted to do this alone.

“Go on, lad.” Bofur smiled, already taking his pipe out to have himself a smoke where he sat on the little bench by the fence. “We are right ‘ere if ye need us.”

 

The blond nodded, took a deep breath and continued up the steps until he stood in front of the green door with the well-polished brass knob. Having sucked in another deep breath, he finally raised his hand to knock. _‘Please, please, Mahal. Let this be her!’_

 

-

 

Bilbo hummed to herself where she stood in her kitchen, baking. She had been busy with baking all morning, there was much to do when you had to refill the pantry with fresh bread and pastries because between snacks and afternoon tea and whatnot, it had an awful tendency to just vanish. Today had been dedicated entirely to baking and she had outdone herself if she could toot her own horn. _‘I bet Lobelia is going to try to imitate my recipe again.’_ she thought gleefully, knowing perfectly well that the nasty Sackville-Baggins in question had no chance to get it right. After all, there were a few secret ingredients in there and Lobelia had far from enough imagination to even _think_ of the possibilities, let alone try them. Not that it had stopped her of course, irritating creature that she was. But then again, she always had had a thing out for Bilbo and no one really knew why. It could hardly be because of the spider Bilbo had put in her hair when they were mere fauntlings, that had been decades ago!

 

Having just pulled out a sheet of tart shells from the oven, ready for filling once they had cooled a bit, she stopped when there was suddenly a knock on the door. A heavy knock. Frowning slightly, Bilbo washed her hands and went to answer while wiping her hands on her apron.

“Yes, what can I do-…” she began… only to completely lose her thread when she saw who stood outside. “…Fíli.” Her voice came out in a whisper, green eyes staring in wonder at the dwarf outside her door… then she noticed the locket around his neck, and tears welled up unbidden. “You came back.”

“Your _cousin_ , Rowan, was _very_ surprised to see me on her doorstep this morning.” Fíli replied softly, unable to take his eyes off of her. He didn’t remember her being this _beautiful_. The honey blonde locks were currently put up in a messy bun at the top of her head, tendrils of silken hair escaping here and there, a smudge of flour on her cheek indicating why she wore it up. Her pale skin had a hint of the faintest rose, a darker crimson spreading on the apple of her cheeks. Her eyes though, her eyes, those wonderful dark jade green eyes, which had haunted him ever since he left Bree, looked at him with so much _love_ and Fíli could feel his knees threaten to commit mutiny beneath him as she graced him with a shy smile.

“I do apologise for that.” she murmured, her voice music to his ears after years of not hearing it but for in his mind. “I assure you, there is a reason I gave you the wrong name.”

“And I would love to hear it later. For now, how about we reintroduce ourselves?” He gently took a small delicate hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I am Fíli, Son of Dís, Prince of Erebor.” The smile that followed his words held only a touch of wickedness. “ _At your service._ ”

The furious blush that earned him told Fíli that she hadn’t forgotten their night together any more than he had.

“Bilbo Baggins.” she murmured. “A warm hearth to you.”

 _Bilbo Baggins._ The name slotted itself into his mind like the one missing piece of a puzzle. Yes, _this_ felt right. He smiled, still holding on to her hand.

“I would not assume, but if maybe, I and my com-”

“Mummy?”

 

Fíli felt blood drain from his face upon hearing that one word. Mother. His One had not waited, she had married and had children. But how? Why would she not wait? Didn’t she feel the same bond he did? Was it possible for Ones to not feel the connection? What would he do-… then he saw the child, and his knees finally buckled, sending him crashing to the ground.

 

“Speaking of introductions,” Bilbo murmured softly, looking down at her child, who was currently half hiding behind her skirts, shyly peeking at the visitor from behind the safety of her hip. “This is Adalgrim Baggins.” She lovingly ran a hand through the boy’s unruly sun kissed hair, smiling when her son stuck his thumb in his mouth as he was wont to do when he was nervous.

 

Fíli couldn’t help but stare. He was looking at his own reflection. The boy had the same golden hair as his father, but in a halo of unruly curls around his head, the tips of pointed ears barely sticking out. He had the very faintest beginnings of hair growing at the tops of his jaw, right under his ears, and while he sure had hair on his feet like his mother, the boy’s feet were indeed smaller than a hobbit’s. He had Fíli's nose and regal bone structure, like any other of Durin’s blood, but he had his mother’s green eyes. And they were blinking at him in wide-eyed wonder.

 

“D’of.” he pressed out around his thumb, earning a low chuckle from Bilbo, who sank down on her knees to hold her son in her arms.

“Yes, my darling, a dwarf. I have told you a lot about this particular one though. Do you remember?”

Adalgrim blinked at the speechless dwarf sitting so oddly on their doorstep, glancing at his mother, and back. He had never seen anyone with the same colouring as him before… or the same features and facial hair.

“Da?” he asked unsurely, earning himself a soft smile and a nod.

“That is right, little one. Say hello to your da.”

Still unsure about all this, but being raised to be polite, young as he was, Adalgrim turned to the dwarf, determination in his green eyes. On small feet, he left his mother’s lap and stood before the man that was his father.

“Adalg’im Baggin’th.” he pressed out, remembering at the very last second to take his thumb out of his mouth. “A wa’m hea’th to you.” Being so young he still had a few problems with certain sounds, but he was still proud of himself for having greeted the dwarf properly. Then he flashed him a happy smile, showing off his tiny teeth with the gaps in between. “Da i’th home now?”

 

Fíli still couldn’t stop himself from staring. The boy, as shy as he had been a moment ago, had padded right up to him and was currently busy comparing a small soft hand to a large rough one. He giggled at the frankly ridiculous difference, instead moving on to exploring Fíli's vambraces. He seemed positively intrigued by the odd sharp lines, so different from the rounded shapes he was used to.

Oh, so carefully, as if this was a lovely dream he would wake from should he move too fast, Fíli gently pulled the boy into his own lap, looking down into big curious green eyes. Without thinking he leaned down to touch his forehead to the boy’s, closing his eyes as he did so.

“Aye,” he rasped. “I have come home.” And in that one moment it was the truest words he'd ever spoken.

His answer earned him another giggle, those small curious hands having come up to explore his beard and stachebraids.

 

Feeling like his heart would burst with joy, Fíli turned to Bilbo, seeing the gentle smile on her face. As one they rose to their feet and took a step forward, towards each other. Wrapping his free arms around her he pulled her into his embrace, greeting her much like he had the boy, by gently touching his forehead to hers. Something inside him, something that had writhed and churned, that pull that hadn’t left him alone for years, lessened… until it finally vanished. _He was finally home_. When she stood on her toes to kiss him he met her halfway, sighing into the press of soft lips to his. He had a family, one of his very own… and he hadn’t even known. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with fear, and he held her harder, pressing desperate kisses to her lips, her cheek, temple, to bury his face in her hair while slender arms wrapped around him to hold him back just as hard. He had almost lost this and he hadn’t even known it was waiting for him. What if he hadn’t survived the battle? What if he had never returned for his One, for his Bilbo? She would never have known he was gone, she would have had to raise their child on her own because suddenly he knew that she had waited for him to come back to her. Bilbo had _waited_ for him without truly knowing, telling their son of his father, of a dwarf with blond hair that would one day come for them. And now he was here.

 

“Well, how goes it, laddie?” Bofur called, successfully bringing Fíli back to the present. “Is it tha right lass this time or are we at tha wrong hobbit ‘ole again?”

“You tell me, Master Bofur.” Fíli chuckled, taking a step aside to let his company see for themselves just how big a blessing had been waiting for him in the Shire. “What does it look like?”

“And I will have you know that it is in fact, called a smial, _not_ a hobbit hole.” Bilbo smiled at the speechless dwarrow. They stared as much at her as they stared at the child in Fíli's arms. Adalgrim positively beamed.

“D’ofs!” he squealed, looking at all the different dwarrow gathered in their small garden.

“Dwarrow.” Fíli corrected gently, earning a small frown.

“D’arro?”

“Yes, my precious pebble, dwarrow.”

 

Green eyes blinked at him, glancing between his da and the steadily excited knot of dwarves staring at them. It warmed Fíli's heart to see a small hand already firmly attached to one of his braids. He'd have to teach the child how to braid when he got older, when his hair grew longer, and Khuzdûl, and crafting… there was so _much_ he could teach his son. And wasn’t that a dizzying thought? He had a _son_!

Adalgrim turned back to the other dwarves, now positively vibrating with joy. Children were so precious to dwarves and here was such a small bairn of their people! Even the burliest and grouchiest of the guards watched the boy with delight.

“D’arro!” he laughed happily, making grabby hands at them, eager to learn more, for mother had taught him what little she knew of his father’s race, secretive as they were the dwarrow. That spurred Bofur on, who jumped into action, walking up to his prince, to introduce himself to the tiddler, making sure to deepen the accent as much as possible, earning delightful giggles when small hands caught his moustache.

“Let us go inside.” Bilbo murmured, seeing how they were getting more and more gawkers on the other side of her gate. No doubt the peanut gallery would scatter as soon as they were all inside, to spread more rumours about Bilbo Baggins of Bag End and her odd guests. “I am sure you are all hungry, and it is time for luncheon soon anyhow.”

 

-

 

The guards had been humbled by the small lady hobbit, kindly asking them to remove their boots once inside and could they leave their gear and weapons in the hallway, please? No one posed any danger to them or their ward, so surely there was no need for all those weapons while in her home? She was completely unaware of that _she_ was one of their wards now too. They had done as asked of course, and settled down in her little parlour when she tutted at them and said that no guests of hers were going to sleep on the floor, so put those bedrolls away right this instant. They had blinked at her when she showed them to generous guestrooms where soft beds awaited them. They would have to share but surely none of them had any issues with that? And the food!

 

Obviously, they had been on their best behaviour while at the table that noon, kindly thanking her for every generously laden plate, and refill, until there was no more room in their bellies and they could eat no more. The guards had listened while Fíli, and the other four from the Company, told her a little of their journey, of their quest to retake Erebor, and Bilbo had listened intently to their every word. The story had been heavily censored of course, Adalgrim, as eager as he was to hear everything, was much too young for some of the details. And speaking of the boy… what a little bundle of joy he was!

 

Adalgrim had warmed up to his father almost instantly, hogging his lap even as he had his luncheon, much to Fíli's delight. He had positively _spewed_ questions about everything his young mind could think of, everything from braids to weapons to monsters to adventure and back to cooking and play and squirrels. Bofur, toymaker that he was, had taken out a whittling knife and made little dwarven warriors and animals for the boy to play with, Nori had worked his ‘magic’, earning wide-eyed stares and squeals of delight when he ‘magicked’ coins from behind the fauntling’s ear, only to disappear between his fingers, and reappear in Adalgrim's pocket. Glóin being Glóin showed the boy his own locket, telling him of Gimli and what a formidable fighter he already was. Though it was probably rude, he only chuffed in delight when small hands curiously explored his beard and the different beads and clasps there, and Fíli was grateful for his men when they excused themselves after the meal and took the boy with them to give his parents some privacy in the kitchen.

 

He swallowed hard where he sat, watching his One sitting across from him. She sat there smiling, a faint blush on her cheeks as she sipped her tea and one glance from those jade green eyes was all it took. Fíli left his seat to round the table… and sank down on his knees next to her, sighing when she turned to him, so easily wrapping her arms around his frame when he pulled her to him. Before he could say a single word she beat him to it though.

“What happened,” she asked softly, letting her fingers run through sun kissed tresses. “That awful winter after we met?” Bilbo swallowed hard. “I felt you… and then suddenly I could barely feel you at all.”

“War.” Fíli replied just as softly, lifting his head to look at her. Carefully he took a small hand to place against his throat… and the lurid scar there. “I almost did not make it.” he whispered, seeing her eyes widen at the raised skin beneath her fingertips. “Almost. But I had sworn to come back to you, so I had to.”

“Fíli…”

“You kept me alive, Bilbo.” the blond murmured. “So many times during our journey, the thoughts and memories of you kept me going. I always felt a pull towards you and if I felt it, I knew you were safe. And it kept me fighting, because I knew I _had_ to return. To you.”

Her small hands gently cupped his face, her eyes watching him, seeing all that he was, that he was trying to say… until Bilbo leaned down to press the softest of kisses to his forehead.

“I promised myself, and Adal, that if you had not come for us when he reached his tweens, I would take him and go find you.” she murmured, pressing her forehead against his, breathing in his air. Having closed her eyes she didn’t see his widen to stare at her in silent wonder. “I would use all that I had to locate you, your name, your description, anything, but I _would_ find you and see you once more.” Without opening her eyes she reached into her blouse and pulled out the necklace she wore there, presenting it with a little smile. “I cannot read what it says but I do know that dwarrow are rather fond of these.”

 

Fíli blinked at the silver, at first not comprehending what he was seeing. Then it clicked. A bead. _His_ bead. And not just any bead either, but the bead that marked him as one of the line of Durin. He had been given it by Thorin when he was but a young boy! Fíli had thought he had lost it in goblin town! He hadn’t even noticed it missing until after his mad dash through the infested mountain and he had despaired for having lost it, not that his uncle had done more than pat him on the shoulder and sigh at him for it.

“I am sorry,” Bilbo mumbled, seeing him staring at the bead on the delicate chain. “I know it was wrong to steal it but I wanted something of yours… and I did give you my mother’s beloved locket.”

Fíli couldn’t help laughing out loud. The one thing that had marked him as prince had been with his One all along! She had marked herself as his intended without knowing!

“Trust me, my love, that would definitely have lead you straight to me.” he smiled, looking up into green eyes.

 

“Why did you leave me?” The question came out of nowhere, slowly wiping the smile off her face. Frowning slightly, she pushed him off, but rather than ignoring him or the question, she took his hand and lead him down a hallway and out through a backdoor. There, overlooking her garden, she sat down on a little bench, urging him to do the same, their hands still linked together. Bilbo swallowed hard.

“Are dwarves’ gossips?” she asked casually, offering him a glance out of the corner of her eye.

“Some I suppose?” came the unsure reply. “Why?”

“Hobbits, as a people, are horrible rumourmongers, just horrible.” Bilbo sighed heavily. “Any little detail about someone else’s life spreads like wildfire and is discussed and whispered over gates and tea cups so fast your head would spin if you knew.” She absentmindedly stroked an escaped curl away from her face and behind her ear with her free hand, still overlooking her garden. “Now, I am a Baggins, and the Bagginses are quite the prominent family in the Shire. They are wealthy and have a good reputation… they are the epitome of _respectability_.” She spat the word had it tasted foul on her tongue. “Before I had my son, _our_ son,” she corrected with a little smile, earning one in return. “I cared for that respectability and whatever reputation I held, for it was all I had. I have the Baggins name, although most of my Baggins-relatives have little contact with me these days, and I have Bag End. You see, as a single woman with wealth and reputation to my name, I could not afford to give you my true name, I could not let anyone know that I had gone to Bree for the sole purpose of meeting a man.” Bilbo sighed again, remembering how peeved she had been to find out she had been stood up, and for the sake of drink at that!

“Then I met you and what we shared that night…” She looked at him, lifting his hand gently to nuzzle his palm. “I had never felt that way before, it was so intense it hurt my heart.” Bilbo murmured. “Like I could not get enough of you, like I needed the very air you breathed, like my skin ached for your touch… like I would shatter if you were not there. It terrified me, for why would I feel that for a dwarf who most likely saw nothing but a night’s fun in me? I was scared, Fíli, I had always prided myself on having a level head and here I was, Bilbo Baggins, offering my all to a man I would most likely never see again.” Sad eyes met devastated cerulean. “I could not bear the thought of being patted on the head, thanked for the pleasures of the night but in the end told some ridiculous excuse for being left behind. It would have broken me… so I decided to leave you instead. That way I would not have to listen to any silly fibs of adventures and firedrakes for being cast aside.”

And wasn’t it a kick in the gut that the very reason Fíli would have left her for had been her worst fear? Pitiful explanations of dragon slaying and adventuring would have only cemented her suspicions of him having used her. No doubt it had been for the best that she had left him like she had after all, his truths would have only hurt her at the time. He swallowed hard.

 

“So hobbits are gossips… but you have a child now?”

Bilbo rolled her eyes, but pressed out a small smile nonetheless.

“You should have seen the reaction to _that_ reaching the grapevine.” she muttered. “And then when Adal was born and it came out that he was _half-dwarf_! Oh my!” Bilbo snorted. “Let us just say that I have much thicker skin now than I had before. They can gossip and whisper and point at me all they want, I care little for reputation and respect these days. All I care about is keeping my son happy and safe.” She frowned. “Though some of them _have_ been cruel to Adal for his lack of a father.”

“He does not lack a father, I am right here!”

Bilbo offered him another small smile… but it was a sad one.

“That you are… but my only concern is, when do you leave?”

Fíli couldn’t help but frown.

“Leave?”

“How long are you staying for? If you are indeed a prince of your mountain, I am sure you have duties to return to eventually. I doubt you can stay in the Shire for very long?”

“Bilbo,” Fíli pressed out, suddenly moving to gently cradle her face in hands rough from hard work and training. “I came here for _you_.” he clarified. “I am not leaving you, or our son, ever again. You are my _family_.”

“But your duties-”

“My _duties_ lie with you and Adalgrim. _You_ are my first and foremost priority. Do you understand?”

Jade green eyes stared unsurely into his, seeing the verity there, the hope and love… the need to be believed. Thick long lashes fluttered closed. She nodded.

“I understand… you are-… here to stay?”

“Yes,” Fíli replied with as much certainty as he could muster. “I am here to stay.”

 

-

 

Hours later, and another meal that left the dwarrow positively stuffed, Bilbo gently took a sleepy Adalgrim from his father’s arms, to tuck him into bed.

“Come now, dear heart,” she mused, untangling small fingers from Fíli's tunic. “It is time for bed.”

“No,” the tyke complained, even as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “Not th’leepy…”

“Are you sure, my darling?” Bilbo chuckled, disappearing down the hallway with the boy. “We should try the bed anyway, see if you are as awake as you say you are, hm?”

 

Fíli couldn’t help smiling softly as he heard the soft voice of his One, singing a low lullaby to put their son to sleep. If he hadn’t conked out in Bilbo's arms already.

“Ye have a beautiful family there, lad.” Bofur smiled gently at him around the stem of his pipe. The dwarf, much like the others in his company, was positively enamoured with the boy, as happy and curious and cheerful as he was. “Truly blessed indeed, a One _an’_ a bairn.”

The blond nodded, keeping his ears peeled to hear his beloved hum in one of the other rooms.

“I am.” He swallowed hard. “Mahal was generous with his gifts when he gave me mine.” He glanced at the toymaker, blowing out smoke through his nostrils. “I am just grateful I knew nothing of them before-… _before._ ”

“Probably for tha’ best.” Bofur nodded. “Though knowing ye had a babe waiting for ye along with ye’r intended would have probably dragged ye across Arda sooner.”

Fíli snorted. Had he known he had a son as well as his One, he would’ve hobbled out of Erebor long before his bones had healed properly. Nothing short of tying him to the bed would’ve kept him in the Lonely Mountain had he known what waited for him in the Shire. And they both knew it.

 

He couldn’t help smiling like the besotted fool he was when Bilbo returned a few moments later, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head before grabbing a cup of tea for herself and settling down at the table next to her love. As if on cue, the four members of the Company started telling her the true nature of their quest, of what they had faced, the perils and the foes, the risks of being crushed beneath fighting stone giants, of goblin towns and spiders and more orcs than anyone bothered thinking about. Bofur grinned at her, relaying how he had been stripped to his unders and tied to a spinning spit over a fire with his comrades while the other half of their famous Company had been thrown in burlap sacks, something that had Fíli blushing when Bilbo laughed at him… and parasites! Wasn’t that just brilliant, to buy time by telling trolls that they had parasites? Her laughter sure had the otherwise serious and burly dwarven warriors smiling in their beards, it was such a joyous sound. She gasped, wide-eyed when they told her of Azog and his vicious son Bolg, staring at them in silent horror when she heard of the great battle at the end of their quest…

 

“The war…” Bilbo murmured, her gaze drifting to the nasty scar gracing Fíli's throat, underneath his tunic. “That winter…” She swallowed hard. “Adalgrim was born a little early, the contractions coming upon me from out of nowhere, but I _knew_ that something was wrong.” Jade green eyes met cerulean. “I had felt it for days, there was something _off_ and I knew not what or why until I went into labour. I _knew_ it was you then, Fíli. Somehow I knew you were in danger, perhaps that is why Adal came as he did.”

“You-… you felt me?” he croaked, as stunned as the other dwarves sitting there in her cosy kitchen.

Bilbo nodded, taking his hand gently in hers, holding it as hard as she dared.

“When Adal was born… I could barely feel you at all. Even as I was overjoyed for the birth of our son, I despaired, thinking I had lost you. It was not until later that I finally felt our bond become stronger once more.”

“Our prince barely survived his injuries from the battle, Miss Baggins.” Dori mumbled lowly. “We all feared for his life, his and his brother’s and uncle’s alike. Thankfully Mahal graciously allowed us to keep them all.”

 

Bilbo only had faint memories of the men they talked about. A regal dwarf with a seemingly perpetual scowl on his face, and a brunet laughing carefree while spewing food across a table. She thought she remembered a big burly dwarf too, bald-headed yet tattooed, another with an axe in his head… and yet a third with white hair and an impossibly kind gaze. But that was as far as her memories reached, she had been much too occupied first with getting ready for her gutless wonder of a hobbit-date, and later with Fíli, to pay much attention to his companions.

“So…” She took another sip of her, third?, cup of tea, to strengthen herself. “You set out to retake Erebor from a dragon, which you managed. A company of a king, two princes, two warriors, a tailor, a toymaker and a-… uh… a cook?” she asked unsurely. “Quite the assembly of professions I must say.”

“Me brother, Bombur, is a cook, aye,” Bofur chuckled. “An’ Bifur, tha’s me cousin, we were miners before, in Ered Luin. We had ta to help support Bombur an’ his family, ye see? But now we can do wha’ we want, an’ I always wanted ta make toys meself.” He glanced towards the parlour where the floor was still covered in several little wooden dwarven warriors, all different in their own right. Adalgrim had been ecstatic with every finished one and while the toys sure weren’t the best of Bofur's work, he had never whittled that fast before, but he'd been happy to do it. After all, he became a toymaker for the look of joy on children’s faces as they saw his creations.

Bilbo smiled softly at him then, causing the dwarf to blink, especially when she reached over the table to gently place a small hand over one of his.

“Thank you most kindly, Master Bofur, for your gifts. They mean all the more to my boy because they are dwarven made, half his heritage. And he has never seen such wonderful toys before.”

“Nothing ta thank me for, Miss Baggins.” Bofur replied lowly, suddenly wondering why he felt himself blush.

 

Rather than keeping her attention on him, feeling him being slightly unnerved by it, Bilbo turned to the redheaded dwarf instead.

“And you, Master Glóin, I heard you are a most fierce warrior when you are not a dedicated father?” She ignored the eyerolling and sighs from the star haired dwarf, for now, focusing her whole attention on Glóin. The dwarf cleared his throat, just about to go off on how wonderful his wife and son were… but thought better of it after a mere glance from his prince. Still though.

“Why yes, Your Highness, I should say I am both of those things. But back in Erebor I work as a banker, and my brother, Oín, is a skilled healer. He accompanied us on the quest.”

Bilbo blinked comically at the man.

“…your highness?” she pressed out questioningly. Frowning slightly, she turned to Fíli who only grinned at her, lifting his eyebrows and being no help at all. Rather than losing her thread though, Bilbo waved that particular question off for later. She’d figure all that highness-business out later, now she had other things to tangle out. This fabled quest being the biggest snarl of them all… for now.

 

“Royals, warriors, cooks, toymakers, bankers and healers… and tailors?” she counted on her fingers, turning to the whitehaired dwarf, enjoying a glass of wine rather than ale like the others. Dori smiled widely at her, happy that she had remembered his profession from an earlier conversation at luncheon.

“I am a tailor by trade yes, Miss Baggins.” he answered calmly. “But I answered the call of my King only when Ori, my younger brother, went.” He offered the blond an apologetic look. “Ori is a scholar you see, a scribe rather than a warrior, and so when he decided to go on this quest, I was determined to go with him. And since Nori is a _thief_ by profession, who knows why he wanted to come.” He offered his sibling a foul glance, earning a shrug in return.

“Aye, our little Ori, going out into the world on a dangerous quest, without you there to mother him.” Nori snorted into his ale. “You had to go too lest the poor boy get ideas, like growing up all on his very own.”

 

“Dori, Ori… and Nori?” Bilbo couldn’t help laughing in delight. “Is that a dwarven tradition? To name all children fairly the same?”

“Usually after the father, aye.” Fíli grinned into own ale. “Me and Kíli are both named after our father, Víli.”

Jade green eyes blinked at him in wonder.

“So, Bofur, Bombur and Bifur, Glóin and Oín, Balin and Dwalin, and Fíli… and Kíli?”

“The two biggest rascals on either side of the Misty Mountains.” Glóin snorted lowly, but not low enough not to be heard by the hobbit… or the prince. The blond graciously ignored the quip, instead turning the focus back to conversation. Before he could say anything however, someone beat him to it.

“Balin and Dwalin are both sons of Fundin though.” Dori piped up. “And Thorin is named after his ancestor rather than any close relative.”

“This is all very interesting,” Bilbo smiled at them all. “It is a very lovely tradition!”

 

“What about Adalgrim?” Fíli asked softly. His heart still skipped a beat whenever he thought about the fact that he had a _son_ , one that was sleeping in the other room. “Who is he named after?”

“No one.” Bilbo shrugged, still smiling. “I liked the name and so I gave it to him.” She offered Fíli a slightly unsure look. “Had I known of your tradition I would have given him something more resembling yours.”

“Do not worry, my love.” Fíli murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Bilbo's temple. “No one blames you for not knowing, we are a very secretive race, us dwarrow.”

“Indeed.” Bilbo muttered, ignoring the flare on her cheeks and the others’ grins at the sweet gesture. “I tried finding books and ask dwarves about your culture and traditions but alas, few of those I met were forthcoming with any information. I got nothing for my efforts in the end.”

“You can ask just about anything you wish now, Miss Hobbit.” Glóin chuckled. “We will answer.”

“As tempting as that offer is, Master Glóin, it will have to wait for another time.” Bilbo sighed, supressing a yawn. “It is getting late and I really should be going to bed. I am sure you are all tired after your journey as well.”

 

As the dwarves got up from the table, still mumbling amongst themselves about how generous the little hobbit lass was for putting them up in proper beds, for she definitely didn’t have to, and how wonderful her cooking was, Bilbo took care of the dishes to take to the kitchen. With another kiss to her temple Fíli said he'd just check in on the boy, saying he'd be right back in a jiffy to help her with clean-up but Bilbo shooed him off with a smile, telling him to go look his fill. It was still such a novelty to him so she could definitely sympathise, she had been much the same when Adal was born after all.

Instead, she found herself with quite the unexpected assistant while tending to the dirty dishes.

“Master Nori?” she asked, blinking at him as he grabbed a towel and dried the dishes as she washed them. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Usually, when people hear what I do for a living, they start thinking about where to possibly hide the silver.” Nori replied calmly, carefully putting pottery and stoneware aside as he was done with them. He offered her a calculating glance. “You on the other hand, Miss Baggins, looked more like someone who might be interested in _employing_ my particular set of skills.”

“I assure you, I have no idea what you could possibly mean, Master Dwarf.” Bilbo snorted, earning a snort in return. She glanced at him. “A woman of my standing, hiring a thief?” Her jade green eyes sparkled with mischief, sparking more than curiosity in the dwarf. _‘Oh,’_ Nori thought where he stood, eyeing her while drying plates and mugs. _‘The little miss has a shrewdness to her underneath the mumsy surface. How interesting.’_

“No one said anything about _hiring_ , did they? I certainly heard nothing of the sort.” he mused, keeping an eye out for Dori. As well-meaning as his brother could be, Dori did have a nasty tendency of ruining a lot of Nori's fun.

“True indeed, no one said anything about hiring.” Bilbo murmured. “Though there might be this one little-… _matter_ of mine, that I would not turn down a solution to.”

“Matters are meant to be solved, are they not, Miss Baggins?”

She glanced towards the parlour where the other dwarrow were, having settled down for a bit before preparing for bed. When she looked him in the eye Nori felt a kind of thrill he hadn’t felt in a long time. Oh yes indeed… what he saw a glimpse of right before him, was his future queen. He liked her already.

“It will not be easy, Master Dwarf.” Bilbo said softly. “Not easy at all.”

“The best things never are.”

“Can you do it?”

“Are you doubting my skills, Miss Hobbit?”

“If that is what it takes to get this done,” she grinned, “Then I suppose I do.”

Nori offered her a downright filthy smile.

“Then allow me to prove my usefulness to you… Your Highness.”

 

-

 

At first Fíli hadn’t been entirely sure where to sleep. All the guestrooms had been taken by his men, and while he was immensely grateful to Bilbo for treating them all so kindly, it did leave him with a conundrum. Where was _he_ supposed to sleep? He wouldn’t have been surprised if Bilbo had decided to bring Adal into her own room and leave the boy’s bed to Fíli but seeing as Adalgrim was sleeping soundly in his own bed… surely, she couldn’t mean for him to sleep on the floor in the parlour? He blinked when a small hand touched his arm, drawing his attention away from the rug in front of the hearth. Bilbo didn’t say a word, merely let her hand slide down into his and gently pulled him out of the sitting room and down the hallway… to her own bedroom where she closed the door softly behind them. Fíli felt himself smile tenderly as they changed into their nightclothes and got under the covers, him blowing out the candle on the bedside before settling in. He shouldn’t have worried, he was _home_ and she knew it as deep down as he did. Bilbo wanted him in her bed, it was where he belonged… and he would never leave her again. He exhaled softly, holding her closer to his chest, breathing in the scent of her hair while she nuzzled into him, to hear his every heartbeat against her ear. As exhausted slumber claimed him, so many things happening that day, Fíli couldn’t help but think that this day, by far, had been one of the _best_ days of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHUAAAA!! WHAT'S HAPPENING!? This was supposed to be a oneshot with some smut in it! Where do all these CHAPTERS come from!? HALP! D8  
> Though it seems as if my motivation is running thin lately ;___;  
> And yes, Bilbo and Nori are totally BFFs XD Fight me!  
> Please keep them lovely comments flowing! I haven’t written this much this fast in YEARS! ♥♥♥♥♥
> 
> P.S. Should I add a violence/gore-tag for this? I’m not entirely sure I have to but if someone feels it’s necessary then of course I’ll make sure to add one!


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Fíli for the first time, got the questionable pleasure, of learning what it was like to wake up with a small child in the household. As in, Adal managing to sneak in through the bedroom door, despite the slightly squeaky hinges, and climbing into bed, only to throw himself at the nearest lump with a happy squeal. The lump this lovely morning, and had the sun even risen yet, happened to be Fíli… and his lower abdomen. He woke up with a pained grunt, his brain reaching for blades for a fraction of a second, before he snapped back to reality, laughing at the boy who squirmed like a little worm beneath his parents’ duvet. Bilbo merely grumbled, burrowing further into Fíli's armpit, her body curling around the squiggly fauntling in between them.

“Good mo’ning!” Adal grinned, showing off small teeth and the numerous gaps in between when Fíli lifted the duvet to peer down at him.

“An early riser, are you, my pebble?” Fíli mused when the boy clearly had no intentions of going back to sleep, instead burrowing in against his father’s arm to wake him up properly so he could get breakfast. As if Fíli hadn’t been wide awake from the moment his spleen had been assaulted. Bilbo however, after a glance out the window which told her that no, the sun had not yet risen, had other plans. With the speed of someone who had done it many times before, her arm shot out and she caught the giggling bairn around the middle, pulling him to her chest, burying her face in the halo of unruly curls to breathe in the scent of _child_. Adal squirmed for a while of course, complaining about wanting first breakfast, something that had Fíli's eyebrows reaching for his hairline, but the deep breaths of his mother, and the warmth of both of them, soon lulled him back to sleep as much as he didn’t it want to. Smug jade green eyes met stunned cerulean blue. Bilbo winked at him, careful not to wake the boy, as she reached out to pull Fíli closer without a single word. He didn’t hesitate, only burrowed back down, slinging an arm over his family. No matter which breakfast, it was much too early.

 

-

 

The next time Fíli woke up it was to an empty bed, much to his dismay. And judging by the smells and sounds coming from the rest of the smial, he was the only one still in bed so doing little more than putting his trousers on, Fíli hurried out into the kitchen… where he found himself staring comically at what met him. Bilbo had used the last of her supplies to cook up a storm of a breakfast for her guests, of which all were enjoying themselves royally. At the end of the table sat Adalgrim, listening wide-eyed to a story told by Bofur, as the toymaker carefully cut a thick warm pancake into smaller pieces for him to eat. In a small hand rested a rather remarkable toy dragon, one the dwarf must've worked on for hours for the resemblance to a certain firedrake was quite noteworthy. Then green eyes fell on Fíli and brightened in joy.

“Da!”

 Bilbo turned towards her dwarf, offering him a smile while nodding for him to take a seat.

“I will have the next batch done shortly, help yourself to anything you like on the table for now.”

“Why did you not wake me?” Fíli blinked at jars of jam, fresh baked bread, porridge, fruit, cheeses, sausages, eggs, bacon and cold cuts. “I could have helped with-… something.”

“You can help me when I go to the market to refill my pantries.” Bilbo chuckled. “Your men have quite the appetite, dear. And you looked like you needed the extra sleep. Your journey _was_ rather long after all.”

Fíli wasn’t the only one who snorted. After almost a year on the road with Bombur, what these men put away was nothing compared to Bofur's brother. The blond absentmindedly wondered if the Ur could still walk on his own. As skilled as Bombur was in the kitchen, and the dwarf was a formidable cook indeed, he was also rather large and he could eat more than a company of Men together.

However, Fíli also wasn’t the only one to notice how Adalgrim suddenly lost some of his joy at the thought of going to the markets.

“I dun wan’o.” he mumbled, not all that interested in the food anymore, suddenly more focused on fiddling with a dragon’s wing. Scooping the boy into his lap, Fíli frowned when the child burrowed into his chest silently.

“Why do you not like the market? Is there something wrong?”

Adal wasn’t answering though, so instead he turned questioning eyes to Bilbo… only to be met with a ramrod straight spine. She didn’t look happy either. She didn’t even have to turn around to know he looked at her. Taking a deep breath she flipped a pancake, absentmindedly stroking a curl behind her ear. Her hair was back up in a bun on top of her head, where it was out of her way while doing chores.

“Do you remember what I said yesterday about hobbits?” she murmured lowly, not bothering to wait for an answer. “While _I_ can easily ignore the gossip, Adal is a much softer target.” Her voice was soft for her son’s sake, but they all heard the underlaying steel core. “I deal with them when I can but having been without a father for so long he has struggled with bullies. Hobbits, and their children in particular, can be cruel when they so wish to be.” She cast him a forced smile over her shoulder. “I do not mind them calling me ‘Mad Baggins’, but when they aim their botherations at my child I have no patience or time for excuses. I have had words with more than one of them but all it seems to accomplish is more angry sneers at my son… so I tend to leave him with the Gamgees whenever I go to the market. That way he is out of harm’s way.”

“Today I am coming with you.” Fíli said darkly. “And I dare a single one of them to say such things to _me_.”

Bilbo finally turned to look at him properly then, to see how he held his son close to his chest, ready to protect the child from any harsh a word as much as physical blows. She nodded and turned back to the stove.

“I hope you have a tight rein on your temper.” she murmured. “You will need it.”

 

-

 

And boy did Fíli learn how right she was. While Bilbo smiled as sweetly as always as they made their way to the markets, Fíli could see that the smile was plastered to her face through sheer force of will rather than any real joy whatsoever. Much like him she heard every single whisper, saw every single glance and pointed finger, but made no notion of showing her awareness of any of it. For the first time Fíli saw just how tough his One had needed to become while he wasn’t there to protect her. Underneath the surface she hid a spine of silver steel and it hurt him knowing she had had no choice but to become as strong as she was, for her own sake as much as their son’s. What Fíli didn’t know however, was that today he was going to learn just how cold that steel was indeed, for while Bilbo was soft and gentle to most, she took no prisoners when it came to those who deserved no such mercy.

 

Despite not liking the markets at all, Adalgrim had decided to come along, perhaps feeling safer now that his father was indeed there to join them. His open and cheerful smiles were suddenly nowhere to be seen as he clung to Fíli where he was perched on a strong arm, a small hand curled tightly around a braid to anchor himself further to his parent. He hadn’t sucked on his thumb since Fíli first saw the child but as they entered Hobbiton, he suddenly reverted back to sucking comfortingly on the appendage, his eyes wary of their surroundings.

Fíli mentally seethed, wishing he hadn’t decided to leave his twin swords back at the smial for he dearly wished he could intimidate the piss out of half of these staring faces. Had Fíli been anyone else than who he was, this sunny morning would’ve probably ended up in slaughter with the way some of these hobbits gawked at them.

 

In front of a stall of fresh fruit however, things turned for the better.

“I see you found her, Master Dwarf.”

Blinking, Fíli turned around… only to smile widely at Primula Baggins.

“With the very generous aid of yours I did in the end, yes, Miss Hobbit.” he replied softly. “You have my eternal gratitude.”

“I care little for your gratitude.” she waved him off with a chuckle. “I care more for my cousin’s happiness and if I have to point her mysterious dwarven lover in the general direction of her smial, than that is what I shall do.”

“Primula Baggins!” Bilbo sputtered indignantly, blushing up a storm over apples, peaches and blueberries.

The other hobbit lass only laughed though, stepping up to her cousin to press a soft kiss to her cheek and whisper something in a pointed ear. Even though it lured a little smile to Bilbo's features she didn’t seem too keen on forgiving her relative for embarrassing her in front of the dwarf so.

“Speaking of sweetcheeks-” Primula began, ignoring the glare that earned her, but was cut off by a happy squeal. Someone else had beaten her to the focus of her attention it seemed.

“Adal!”

 Immediately the boy in Fíli's arms snapped around, beaming at the fauntling that hurried towards them, pulling stubbornly on his father’s hand that refused to let go of him.

“F’odo!” Adal squirmed to be let down, rushing up to the other boy the moment he was released.

Somewhere behind them, Bofur's moustache suddenly curled at the simply adorable sight of two fauntlings hugging tightly. If anyone asked, Glóin would fiercely deny it but Dori heard it clear enough, the burly dwarf cooed.

 

From out of seemingly nowhere, another three boys came to greet Adalgrim, all of them happy and excited to see him at the markets when he usually so avoided it. And there wasn’t a single dwarf there who didn’t see the sheer _pride_ in the boy when he turned to the prince to introduce him to the wide-eyed group.

“My da!” he beamed, smiling happily at Fíli. “He came fo’ mummy!”

And that is how the knot of dwarrow came to be introduced to Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc ‘Merry’ Brandybuck and Peregrin ‘Pippin’ Took. Sadly, the only children in the Shire who would play with him. The boys stared in bug-eyed wonder when Fíli formally introduced himself to them had they been Elven dignitaries from Lórien rather than fauntlings of the Shire, then discretely turning their attention to his guards, who were never far behind him.

“Bofur is in bliss.” Fíli murmured into his beloved’s ear as the grownups watched the children descend upon the dwarrow like flies, Adal in the middle and laughing while pointing out who was who of the guards. “He may never leave the Shire again, maybe he will set up shop as a toymaker and become rich all over right here.”

“I doubt he would make much coin,” Drogo snorted. “But he would certainly be surrounded by fauntlings.” Friendly eyes turned to the blond, nodding slightly in greeting. “Drogo Baggins, a warm hearth to you, Master Dwarf. We have heard a lot about you.”

“Fíli, Son of Víli, at your service.” Fíli replied in turn, silently wondering just _what_ Bilbo had told them about him. “I am sorry to say, I have yet to learn much about Bilbo's relations.”

“Miss Baggins is my second cousin.” Drogo answered the unspoken question, watching the children cautiously. The dwarves were so big and their weapons so sharp… and the boys so eager to get close and explore. He offered the dwarf a glance. “I trust you have honourable intentions in returning to the Shire, sir?”

“I assure you, I have nothing _but_ honourable intentions.”

“Can we not have this conversation? At least not here?” Bilbo quipped easily while paying for her purchases and arranging to have them delivered later in the day. She still had other purchases to make and would rather get on with it without having embarrassing conversations such as these for any big ears to overhear.

Well, if Bilbo wanted to avoid a scene in the middle of Hobbiton market then she had another thing coming for who did she run into, if not Lobelia Sackville-Baggins?

 

Lobelia sneered at her, giving Bilbo a filthy look over her bag of pears.

“Out and about are we, _Miss_ Baggins?” she asked loudly. Pointing out how Bilbo had a child yet was unmarried seemed to be one of her favourite pastimes. Bilbo wanted so dearly to roll her eyes but refrained. Barely.

“I do have guests, Mrs Sackville-Baggins,” she replied calmly, trying valiantly to ignore the crowd gathering around them, who knew the two ladies could never run into each other without Lobelia casting shade over Bilbo. Blasted hobbits and their darned thirst for juicy gossip! “Quite a few of them at that and I need to restock my larders and supplies. A perfectly normal everyday chore seeing as you are here in similar business.”

“ _My_ business is _respectable_.” Lobelia sniffed her nose, finally earning that eyeroll.

“Is there anything unrespectable about my purchasing apples and flour, Mrs Sackville-Baggins?” Bilbo asked through a tight smile. Her calm question earned her a sneer and a filthy look.

“There certainly is nothing respectable about bringing that-… that _bastard child_ of yours out into the public!”

 

Much like the first time when Fíli had run into this particular woman, he heard a buzzing in his ears. For a moment there he swore he saw red! How _dare_ this pitiful excuse of a socialite say such-!

He blinked when a surprisingly strong hand grabbed him by the arm, holding him back from unsheathing his hidden daggers. While Drogo offered him the very faintest of sharp smiles, his eyes held nothing but darkness. Fíli frowned, seeing how the gentlehobbit nodded towards his One. Bilbo looked calm enough… but her jade green eyes were black with rage. Gone were the polite smiles and small talk. She was out to tan Lobelia's hide properly.

 

“You know what? I have had quite enough of you, _Lobelia Sackville-Baggins_.” she said calmly, her voice positively glacial. “You can say whatever your black little heart desires about _me_ , I care little for your insults, but when you aim your vitriol at my _son_ , then all bets are off. You say I am not respectable, yet I have encountered nothing _but_ respect wherever I go, and I am welcome in Tuckborough whenever I so please. _You_ on the other hand, as much as I know you would love nothing more, have not been invited to any formal or important occasions even _once_ , for no one from Tuckborough wants to be associated with you, even remotely so.” As she spoke, Bilbo kept stepping closer to the other hobbit, keeping her gaze locked on her prey and she wasn’t going to stop until she had spoken her mind. She was going to take Lobelia down once and for all. Lobelia wanted a reputation, well, she sure was going to get one, right here and right now. “And have you not noticed how none of the Bagginses welcome you to their gatherings either, hm? You may have married into the name and wealth of a Baggins, but deep down we all know that you are, and will remain, nothing but a greedy _Bracegirdle._ ” There was fear in Lobelia's eyes now and she had lost some colour, half of it probably due to the fact that they had a rather large audience who were all listening and watching with keen interest as the dark-haired hobbit slowly backed away from the incensed Baggins. “As for calling my son a bastard, you have no leg to stand on, _Lobelia_ , considering the fatherhood of your own nasty tyke, who you have taught no better than to bully other innocent children! Oh yes, I know who the _real_ father of Lotho is and do not think for as much as a moment that I will hesitate to tell Otho whose son he is raising as his own, if you do not stop this atrocious behaviour at once! Do you _hear_ me?” The last step Bilbo took into Lobelia's personal space was enough to have the Sackville-Baggins trip in her effort to get away, landing on her rump hard… right in a puddle. At that point she was as pale as a sheet, staring at Bilbo with humiliated horror in her eyes.

 

Seeing that she had gotten her point across, Bilbo turned on her heel and walked away, not caring a lick about the whispers she could already hear from the peanut gallery. Let them whisper! Her reputation meant less to her than it did to Lobelia for the difference between the two hobbits was that Bilbo had her head screwed on right and her priorities set straight. She saw from the corner of her eye how Nori offered her a cheeky grin, and offered him a barely visible nod in return. With that done she went up to the stunned speechless dwarrow, and gaping fauntlings, to grab her son who was blissfully unaware of what had just gone down, and continued her shopping. The way Adalgrim clung to her happily, pressing a smack of a kiss to her cheek, was worth the number of stares she got. Oh yes, she was fairly convinced Lotho would never aim for her precious little boy, ever again. Not if he knew what was good for him, or if Lobelia knew what was good for _her_.

 

Behind her, Fíli calmly walked up to the silent Lobelia, squatting before her… yet offering her his hand.

“You consider yourself an esteemed member of this community, Mrs Hobbit,” he said softly. “Yet I see no one here who stands up for you, or who is willing to help you. Now to me, that says a lot about your character.” He grabbed her hand and hauled her up to her feet, leaning in closer so she alone could hear his next murmur. “And the next time I hear you call my son a bastard or _anything_ derogatory about my One, Mrs Hobbit, I will come for you and I will slaughter you like the cur you are underneath that _respectable_ veneer.” He offered her a friendly little smile, letting go of her hand and stepping back from the terrified stiff hobbit. “No one insults the line of Durin, and certainly not my future queen.”

With that said he offered her a tilt of the head and promptly dismissed her, in favour of following his One. Once he had caught up with her he easily relieved her of the fauntling, earning himself a happy squeal and a gentle smile in turn. Seeing her defend their child… if he hadn’t loved her so already, he definitely would’ve loved her now. She had been fierce, breath-taking… _merciless_ in her righteous fury. Oh yes, she would make a stunning queen of Erebor.

“So…” he hummed, ignoring his guard following them through the crowd. “Is there any particular reason why you are in cahoots with my uncle’s Spymaster?”

Bilbo snorted but couldn’t help the smile.

“In cahoots?”

“Are you in any way, plotting something with the Spymaster of Erebor, love of mine?” he smiled right back, earning himself a rather delightful blush.

“I was under the impression that he was a thief?” Bilbo evaded the subject gracefully.

Yes, she would make a magnificent queen someday.

“He is.” Fíli grinned. “That is his _official_ profession. It is a lot easier to spy if no one knows you are spying.” He glanced at his hobbit lass, absentmindedly stopping small fingers from undoing beads and clasps. “So, any particular reason?”

The glance she gave him was mischievous, a secretive little smile gracing soft lips. She didn’t say a word though.

 

-

 

Later, after all the shopping was done and their little procession returned home, Bilbo laughed out loud at the stupefied look on Fíli's face as he saw the result of Bilbo and Nori's little ‘scheme’, proudly displayed on her kitchen table. Silver, and not just any silver… but _Bilbo's_ silver. Bilbo's silver cutlery, three large saucers and a surprisingly well-made silver teapot. The thief looked positively innocent where he sat, smoking his pipe, dark eyes glimmering with mirth underneath braided eyebrows. Dori on the other hand was on the verge of a conniption.

“Nori!” he shrieked. “We have been in the Shire less than two days and you have already corrupted Her Highness!”

“Please calm down, Master Dori,” Bilbo chuckled, patting Adal on the rump to go wash his hands before luncheon. “Master Nori has done no such thing.”

Glóin absentmindedly lifted a spoon, carefully biting the end of it, then blinked at it.

“I could’a sworn these were tin yesterday.” he muttered, scratching his head confoundedly.

“And yesterday indeed they were.” Bilbo smiled. “Master Nori here, very kindly offered his services in getting me my mother’s silverware back for me. Everything you see here, has been nicked and replaced with a tin copy over the course of several years you see. With such an opportunity, how could I resist?”

“Mahal have mercy!” a horrified Dori pressed out, valiantly ignoring the grin between his brother and the hobbit. He looked like he wanted to cry when Bilbo slid up to the thief and very gently placed a peck on Nori's cheek.  
If anyone as much as breathed a word about the resulting blush, they would have to sleep with one eye open and a hand on their coin purse for the foreseeable future.

“You have indeed, proven your ‘usefulness’, Master Dwarf.” she smiled sweetly. “I think I shall keep you.” She offered him a little wink and with that left the kitchen to put away her purse and take her coat off. Behind her she left a stunned knot of dwarrow. Bofur snorted.

“So tha’s why ye jingled like a box’a tools when ye came back.”

Fíli blinked at it all.

“…where did you hide the teapot?”

 

-

 

Not long after, while Bilbo was busy hanging up laundry, for there was always dirty laundry to be had with a curious little boy underfoot, and Fíli helping out like the besotted dwarf he was, both froze when they heard a commotion from the other end of the smial. Fíli had barely had time to blink before he saw his hobbit rush off towards the noise, prompting him to follow with a low curse under his breath, nimbly sliding daggers out from hidden sheaths. Prepared to protect his family with his life, Fíli boomed out through the door… only to end up stopping short at the sight of an old gentlehobbit laughing loudly while Adal cheered happily at the unannounced visitor, begging for treats, much to the admonishment of Bilbo. She wore a big smile on her face so whoever this elderly hobbit was, it was definitely someone who was welcome to her home. Fíli discretely hid his blades, preferring not to scare anyone unnecessarily if he could avoid it, least of all his own son. In the corner of his eye he saw Nori, and one of the guards do the same. Though he really needed to have words with Bilbo about which direction to go in at the risk of danger, that much was obvious.

 

“So this is your dwarven soulmate, my dear?” The question was obviously aimed at Bilbo more than Fíli, but it did have the prince straightening his spine nonetheless. A blond brow rose when the gentlehobbit eyed him critically, very obviously sizing him up… and not necessarily finding him satisfactory. The dwarf nearly raised his hackles but manners highjacked his brain when the other promptly approached him and offered a shallow little bow. Whoever this hobbit was, he definitely commanded respect. His bearing and behaviour indicated as much.

“Gerontius Took, a warm hearth to you.” he introduced himself calmly. “I am Bilbo's grandfather.”

Cerulean eyes blinked. _‘Oh!’_ Fíli bowed respectfully before the other.

“Fíli, Son of Víli, Prince of Erebor.” he replied lowly. “At your service.”

Intelligent eyes watched him, something impish in the dark depths as they scrutinised him.

“Aye… a prince indeed.” the old hobbit rumbled. “And a _crown_ prince at that! I must say, I am surprised that the King Under the Mountain allowed his Heir Apparent to come all this way to the Shire, and on his very own.”

Fíli abruptly paled… seeing how confused jade green eyes turned to frown at him.

“…crown prince?” Bilbo asked unsurely. “Heir Apparent? I thought you said you could stay here?”

“Uhm… I was going to get to that eventually.” Fíli tried, but was run over by the sniggering old hobbit.

“Oh, I am sure he can stay for a while, my dear.” Gerontius mused around the bit of his pipe. “Though for how long no one is certain. Tell me, lad, did you really think I would not find out who the soulmate of my favourite granddaughter really is? I may not be king, but I do have my own connections you know?”

 

This time it was Bilbo who snorted, diffusing the tension between the two somewhat as she grabbed the confused child in her arms and headed towards the door.

“No king? You are the Thain of the Shire, grandfather. You might as well be king and you know it.”

“…Thain?” Fíli pressed out, feeling like the proverbial rug had been swiped from beneath his feet. He wasn’t entirely sure he liked the glimpse of amusement in the old man’s eyes as they watched his every reaction.

“Oh yes,” Bilbo blinked at him as if she had never seen him before. “Gerontius Took, or ‘The Old Took’ as we call him, is the Thain of the Shire. Our military leader if you wish.”

“I thought you said you were a Baggins?” the blond asked unsurely, earning himself an innocent little smile.

“I am.” Bilbo replied sweetly. “But I am also half-Took, on my mother’s side.”

“I always knew the Took-blood ran stronger in her,” the Old Took chuckled, passing the stupefied dwarf on his way into the smial after the other two, only stopping to offer Fíli a truly shit-eating grin. “Especially when she ran off to Bree to find herself a man to sire her a child without having to bear the burden of marriage. Such is the Took-blood, boy.”

As a stupefied prince followed the hobbits inside, his company remaining outside to continue caring for their weapons and gear, all Fíli could think was _‘I seriously doubt the age difference between us is big enough to warrant being called a_ boy _’_.

 

-

 

Clearly, the Old Took was at home enough in Bilbo's smial that he was comfortable with putting on the kettle himself while Bilbo finished hanging the laundry with Adal. He disappeared into the pantry for a bit, emerging a while later with a large plate full of pastries which Fíli was pretty sure Bilbo had hidden away to save for later. Not that he was going to tell the Thain of the Shire off, he wasn’t stupid. Neither was he going to point such things out to his intended’s grandfather, an authority figure in his own right. Oh, Fíli was so unprepared for this conversation!

“So,” Gerontius sighed when he sank down on a chair, silently groaning at his complaining old joints. “Tell me why you have come to the Shire and for how long. I want you to be honest with me, lad, that is going to make this easier on both of us.”

“I have come to bring my One home.” Fíli answered the question lowly. “Bilbo is my intended and I wish to bring her, and our son, back with me to Erebor.” He took a deep breath. “I will not force her however, I anticipate staying here for as long as it takes for her to feel comfortable with the thought.”

The old hobbit nodded, helping himself to a small assortment of nibbles from the plate.

“Good, shows me you respect her and her roots here in the Shire.” he said, biting into a glazed cookie. “And what will you do, young prince, if Bilbo decides she does not want to move to Erebor? What then?”

 

The dwarf drew a deep breath and held it while thinking… then let it out slowly. He had preferred not to ponder too much on the risk that Bilbo may not what to move to the Lonely Mountain but he knew it was there all the same. And if he had to choose between Erebor and Bilbo…

“Then I will renounce my right to the throne and stay here with her and Adalgrim.”

Somewhere outside the window Fíli swore he heard the clatter of several guards falling over, and mentally winced. Dwarves may not be anywhere near the gossipmongers hobbits were, but they sure were just as nosy.

“That is quite the sacrifice, young prince.” the Old Took murmured, a sudden seriousness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I somehow doubt that your realm would take kindly to one of their royal heroes leaving to lead a simple life across the mountains however.” Dark eyes met serious cerulean. “Not to mention, could you even find happiness here, amongst our rolling green hills without a mountain peak in sight?”

“Bilbo is my _One_.” the blonde answered firmly. “The thought of her kept me alive through a hazardous quest to retake our homeland, and our _Bond_ kept me alive even when I thought I would fall in the war that followed. _She_ is the sole reason I am even here today. If she wants to stay in the Shire then this is where I will be.” Fíli rose to grab the kettle when it started whistling, sparing the old man the effort of getting up. Keeping his voice calm he continued, even as he poured. “I was not born under a mountain, Master Took, me and my brother were both born and raised above ground and as such I do not need mountain halls to live. Although I hope Bilbo would at least consider visiting Erebor before she makes a decision, I would never force her to live somewhere where she did not feel welcome or at home.” He put the kettle back down and reclaimed his seat, meeting the intelligent gaze of the other head-on. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by some old man asking hard questions, not after having ruled a ghost city coming back to life in the wake of a war. “I will not risk losing the love of my life over a mere mountain.” He swallowed hard. “She would wither if I forced her.”

 

Only then did the Old Took finally grace him with a soft smile… as if Fíli had passed a test he hadn’t even known he was subjected to.

“Aye… and with those words I am finally confident that you love her as much as she loves you, princeling.” Gerontius murmured. He looked up from his next pastry to meet surprised eyes. “Did you doubt her affections?”

“No… but perchance I have been uncertain of their depth.” the dwarf admitted hesitantly. He could still hear Adalgrim laugh with his mother at the back of the smial, they would be done with the laundry soon.

“Then worry no more, Fíli, Son of _Dís_.” the gentlehobbit smiled softly at him, earning a raised eyebrow in return. “After Bilbo met you, she-… she _changed_.” Gerontius finally sighed. “Before she had always made the hardest of efforts to be polite and respectable, to attend many of the different parties intended for hobbits in search of love. She had no interest of finding anyone of course but she kept up appearances for the sake her reputation, she _is_ the Master of Bag End you see? Then she returned from a ‘long walking holiday’ and stopped pretending altogether. Suddenly I would find her deep in thought, her mind far far away while she smiled the softest of smiles I have ever seen on the child.” The hobbit chuckled softly to himself. “If you asked her what she was smiling about she would get this look in her eye, playful and happy and always so very tender. She would say it was a secret and then continue with whatever she had been doing before she started daydreaming. Drove some of us downright bonkers I tell you!” Gerontius sighed again. “Then of course she found out she was with child, and you should have seen the pure _joy_ she showed then. Not even that Lobelia-hobbit could put a damper on her bliss, as much as she tried, and I assure you, she did try. That is when Bilbo came into her own, she cast off the fetters of being a _respectable Baggins_ and started living her life for herself, and her unborn child.” Old wise eyes met wide-eyed cerulean. “And for you, for she never doubted, not even once, that you would come back to her. So doubt her love no more, Prince Fíli of Erebor, Bilbo loves you with everything that she is. She _is_ her mother’s daughter after all and my Belladonna was quite something.” The gentlehobbit reached out for the next nibble on his plate. “However, as her grandfather as much as her Thain, I will not allow you to take her to Erebor, visit or otherwise, without properly courting her, and marrying her, here in the Shire.” he stated calmly, watching the dwarf firmly. “That is non-negotiable.”

 

-

 

When Bilbo returned to the kitchen, having finally finished hanging the laundry, things did take longer when a small child tried ‘helping’ didn’t they, she saw her beloved and her grandfather sit and converse amicably while sipping tea… and finishing off the pastries she had kept away for after dinner. She had conveniently forgotten that Gerontius had a nose like a bloodhound where sweets were concerned. She could also see that they had had a _conversation_ of some sort and whatever it had been about, her most likely, they seemed to have come to some kind of agreement. She narrowed her eyes at them, getting only innocent looks in return… then sighed. She knew there was no way she was getting anything out of the Old Took, not if he didn’t want to share, and she doubted Fíli would be any easier to crack. At least not in front of her grandfather and their son.

 

“Alright,” she mumbled, mentally grimacing when Adal flew to the table only to blink disappointedly at the empty plate. No sweets, save for a few crumbs. Maybe that was a good thing though. “Apart from whatever you two have just discussed, grandfather, what is the reason for this lovely visit?”

“Adal, my boy,” Gerontius smiled at the fauntling, successfully drawing his attention away from the blobs of frosting he had wiped up with his fingers. “Why do you not go to the Gamgees and see if little Sam is out and about?” he asked softly. “Us adults need to have a little discussion, you see?”

Frowning slightly, Adal turned a questioning glance to his mother who nodded after a moment of silence. The next moment the boy rushed out the door, a faint clatter indicating that at least one dwarf had gone with him.

 _‘Good.’_ Fíli thought absentmindedly. _‘The men know their duties.’_ As Fíli's son, Adalgrim was as much theirs to protect as Fíli himself was. Bilbo rolled her eyes though as she sat down next to the blond.

“Bell Gamgee is probably going to keep him for dinner now.” she murmured, knowing her little boy would most likely have to be picked up later in the day. By then he would be exhausted, dirty and most likely stuffed. Bell was a wonderful woman that way.

“All the better, gives us plenty of time to discuss important matters.” the Old Took nodded.

 

“Matters such as my dwarf being the heir to a throne across the Misty Mountains?” Bilbo's voice was low, but serious. “And how I have to leave the Shire?”

“That is the thing, Bilbo,” Fíli replied, taking a small hand in his. She was so delicate and vulnerable, he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her in any way whatsoever. “Although I do wish you will at least visit Erebor, you do not have to move there if you do not want to.”

“But you are the _heir_.”

“Yes, but I also have a brother.” Fíli shrugged his shoulders. “If you decide Erebor is not for you, I will step down and Kíli will become heir.” He winced at the rather loud snort from outside the window, the two hobbits blinking comically at where the noise had come from. “Master Nori, a bit more discretion if you would?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” came the muffled reply before a hand came down from above to carefully close the window. Fíli didn’t doubt for a second that Nori wouldn’t sneak in through the door to keep on listening. Well, he wasn’t a Spymaster for nothing, now was he?

“Fíli,” Bilbo asked lowly, her small hand suddenly clinging to his and her eyes imploring. “Could you even be happy here? There is a vast difference between the Shire and any dwarven kingdom, as I am sure you have seen yourself already, and there are few dwarrow coming through here. You would be cut off from your own culture.”

 

“No, I would not.” Fíli smiled softly at her, more secure than ever in how much she loved him, especially after what the Old Took had told him. “I would get what I need from Erebor, and I will teach Adal about my half of his heritage so he can learn more about his father and himself, and I am fairly sure some of my men would come with me. We could join the Rangers to protect the Shire’s borders.” he murmured, not seeing the glimpse in dark eyes. “So few dwarves are blessed with Ones, amrâlimê, how could I possibly leave you now that I finally found you again?” Fíli pressed his forehead to hers softly, not caring that the old hobbit blinked at them. “I need no mountain if I have you.”

Bilbo swallowed hard, closing her eyes while drawing a deep shaky breath. Her worries were not yet gone, but they had lessened somewhat. Having this whole ‘heir’-business sprung on her had been more than she had prepared herself for… though it did explain why she was being called ‘highness’ by the others occasionally. Goodness, Bilbo didn’t think she had what it took to be a queen!

“I believe you.” she murmured, earning a gentle kiss to her temple. When she turned back to her grandfather, she found him watching them with an amused, and impossibly fond, look in his eye.

“Good.” he chuckled, silently relieved himself that this part was over. Now to the fun stuff. “So. I had a very upset Mrs Sackville-Baggins come up to me during my journey here.” he mused, absentmindedly wondering if Bilbo had hidden any more pastries. He sipped his tea without looking up, knowing he would laugh if he saw their faces. “She was screeching something awful about how her good reputation was ruined, falsehoods about her son’s parentage I believe?” He sipped delicately from the cup again. “And something about thieves? Apparently, every single hat, umbrella and button in her possession, have vanished mysteriously… along with every chair leg in her smial? I do so wonder what kind of thief would steal such things?”

He didn’t see the hysterical expressions on Bilbo's and Fíli's faces… but he did hear the manic cackle from down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little to show how much Bilbo really did feel their bond, and how tough she had it while Fíli was off fighting dragons.  
> And yes, Lobelia is a twatwaffle. Though she did have it coming.  
> Please do comment, I have never written this much so fast in my life and it’s all thanks to the lovely support! ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
> 
> P.S. You can find me on tumblr as nekoliule, where I mostly reblog stuff. You can poke me there if you want :)


	5. Chapter 5

In the coming days, and weeks, Fíli really did take the Old Took’s advice, and barely hinted order, to heart. He gave Bilbo flowers almost every day, earning himself the most endearing of blushes, he sang to her after a long day of work, humbled by the way his voice immediately made her relax and her shoulders sink, tension easing as they did so. He helped her out in her home with cleaning and cooking to the best of his ability, silently smug when he caught her staring at him with something dark in those bewitching jade green eyes when she saw him chop wood one day, shirtless, for the sun was high in the sky and it was a warm high summer day. Some days they did no chores at all, save for cooking. Usually, those days were the ones when it was pissing rain outside, his little family and his company, all safe and comfortable in her smial, some reading, some playing games at the kitchen table with Adal, while others took the time to just chat and enjoy the peacefulness that was the Shire. Those were the days Fíli loved best… and those were the days that made him realise that maybe giving up his position as heir and come lead this calm life wouldn’t be such a hard thing to do after all. He could easily envision himself living in Bag End, growing old with Bilbo, watch their son grow up. Yeah… as long as they visited Erebor every once in a while, Fíli probably wouldn’t mind the transition much at all. Somehow, the thought brought him peace.

 

He wasn’t the only one who realised that he definitely needed to spar a lot more to keep in shape, living with hobbits as they were. Seven meals a day was a lot more than the dwarrow were used to and they sure were hefty meals. Bilbo seemed to be of the opinion that the dwarves in her smial were too skinny and was on a mission to do something about it. And she wasn’t the only one. Fíli still remembered when the group came home after a long day of helping Hamfast with gardening, apparently there had been a bit of a mudslide after a particularly heavy rain and could Master Fíli and his strong men possibly help him with the large rocks that had ended up in the middle of a client’s garden? Hamfast hadn’t mentioned that the ‘rocks’ were closer to ‘boulders’ and they sure had worked hard that day, careful with happy fauntlings underfoot to ‘help’. Still, they had managed and when they returned to Bag End, having opted to clean themselves in the river to save Bilbo's plumbing, they were met with the combined result of two hobbit-women cooking up a storm.

 

Bell Gamgee and Bilbo Baggins had made enough food to feed an army. _Bombur_ would’ve struggled to finish all that off! But what a meal! The long table had been _loaded_ with food, to the point where the dwarrow silently worried if it could even hold more weight. There had been roasts on spit, dripping with juices, fresh bread still steaming from the oven, whole cooked ducks and chickens, fish that seemed to melt on your tongue, pies with perfect golden-brown crusts, salads with chunks of white cheese, boiled potatoes, mashed potatoes and grilled. There had been bell peppers filled with mouth-watering meat sauce, there had been sausages, smoked and dried, gravies and thick creamy mashes the dwarrow didn’t even know the names of. And that’s not even mentioning the desserts waiting for them for after! Cakes and puff pastries and muffins and glazed biscuits and soft cookies with chewy bits and fresh fruit drizzled in honey and chopped nuts! Somehow, the two women had even managed to get two whole barrels of ale in there, _two_!

It had been Glóin who had broken the stupefied staring of the dwarrow, turning to Hamfast who had silently been wondering why they didn’t just _dig in_.

“Master Gamgee,” he rumbled. “I think it is safe to say, that if _this_ is the reward for a day’s hard work, us dwarrow, are ever at your service.”

“Well, come on then, lads!” Bell had laughed at them, cheerful woman that she was, already busy with heaping up plates for the fauntlings who eyed the dessert table with undiluted excitement but knowing they had to have proper dinner first. “Do help yourselves! And if anything runs out, just let me know and I will whip up some more!”

 

She hadn’t had to tell them twice and the dwarves had descended over the feast like starved men rather than the well-fed dwarrow they actually were. They had made sure to stick to somewhat acceptable table manners, there were lady-hobbits there after all, but it had still turned out to be a very loud and cheerful affair with lots of singing, music and dancing. There was something to be said for hobbitish feasts, that much was sure. And in the morning, if more than one of the dwarves woke up to a spectacular case of the morning tremblies, well, then that could be solved with a generous fried breakfast. Hobbits sure could hold their liquor it seemed. Bilbo had laughed at him when Fíli whimpered the next morning, feeling like Mahal was working his forge behind his eyeballs. She could have dragged him out of bed to go to the kitchen for food, but instead she had been the sweetest creature Fíli could have ever asked for and left him to sleep some more… followed by serving him his breakfast in bed. When he asked her where Adal was her eyes had sparkled with mirth, saying that the Gamgees had foreseen this coming and taken all the fauntlings back home with them to spare delicate dwarven senses in the morning. Fíli would happily lug boulders for Hamfast and Bell for that consideration.

 

“I drew you a bath, dear.” Bilbo murmured once she came to take the tray away. “I figured you would like to take a proper one with hot water and soap rather than cold river water and the company of your companions?”

“How did I get so lucky?” Fíli smiled softly at his One, feeling much better already. He need not know that the tea she had served him along with his hearty breakfast was a special brew for these particular kinds of ‘ailments’, heavily sweetened with honey to hide the bitter taste mind you.

“Maybe it is the other way around, sweetheart?” Bilbo winked at him. “Maybe _I_ am the lucky one in this situation?”

“I can name a number of dwarves who would argue that statement.” Fíli snorted, getting out of bed.

Bilbo shrugged, but levelled him with a fond smile before she left the bedroom with the tray.

“They would be wrong.”

 

Chuckling to himself at the sheer confidence in those words, Fíli didn’t bother with trousers but rather went to the bathroom wearing naught but his nightshirt. The water was steaming and the scent of pine was heavy in the humid air. He quickly slipped the shirt off and then groaned as he slid into the warm water, feeling stiff muscles slowly relax. Oh yes, this was life. Still with his mind pleasantly foggy, nimble fingers absentmindedly came up to remove beads and clasps, putting them in the conveniently provided little bowl, then moving on to undo braids and tangles. Fíli enjoyed his bath longer than he usually would’ve stayed soaked. Back in Erebor, washing had been nothing more than something that needed done. A royal, and a currently reigning king in particular, had to pose as a role model for the rest of the people and that included keeping clean. And while no dwarf would’ve been caught dead with a dirty beard or messy braids, some cared less about the rest of their body than they possibly ought to. Sadly. Not that Fíli liked being dirty, he had more than enough filthy days behind him thank you, so being able to just sink down and _soak_ was a rare luxury for him. Not to mention, there was _something_ about Bilbo's home that made it so cosy and welcoming. The shirelings lead a different pace of life than dwarrow did, the lifestyle of hobbits inviting to long days of leisure, only broken by the need to cook, and even that wasn’t rushed.

 

Only when he started to look like a proper prune and the water was decidedly cooler did Fíli get out of the tub with a happy little sigh. He pulled the plug, very pointedly not looking at the dirty water. Instead he grabbed a fluffy towel, wrapped it around his hips and went to the bedroom to get dressed.

 

-

 

Bilbo hummed lowly to herself while washing up after the hefty breakfast she had served the warriors once they came stumbling into the kitchen, some whimpering more than others. For being such a sturdy race dwarrow were surprisingly bad at holding their liquor. Not to mention, most of them had underestimated Hamfast's moonshine and quite a few hobbits, those who had ever tried it, knew better. Bilbo included. She sighed, tutting to herself when she heard loud snoring from outside her kitchen window. Seriously, more sleep? Were they really that sensitive? Oh well.

 

Done with everything in the kitchen, for now, Bilbo turned down the corridor to change all the sheets and do laundry instead… only, just as she came around the corner she saw Fíli come out of the bathroom. And his beauty captured her, droplets of water from the golden hair running down the strong back. Without thinking she padded down the hall… softly closing the bedroom door behind her.

 

She knew he had heard her, the damn hinges were impossible to miss if you were awake to hear them, but he didn’t turn around to face her, merely continued digging around for clean underthings. Until he felt a small hand touch his back that is. Fíli straightened then, forgetting clothes for now, drawing a deep unsteady breath while golden lashes fluttered closed, because he felt that small hand, warm and oh so careful, gently touch one of the nasty scars on his back. Even years later, they were still raised, pink and overly sensitive. Compared to the few scars he had born when they first met, the ones from the Battle of the Five Armies were grotesque, horrid. But that didn’t seem to disturb Bilbo. She explored one then let her gaze and hand move to the next, and the next and the next. She pressed kisses, soft and gentle, to them all, earning low gasps whenever her lips touched the mangled tissue. Her breath whispered words of love into his skin, of how she had missed him so terribly, how she had prayed to Yavanna to let her see him again, to bring him back to her, because he was _hers_ and she would have no one else… how he was the most breath-taking creature she had ever laid eyes upon, before as much as right here and now.

 

By the time her soft kisses traced the ugly scar around his neck, following it around to his front, Fíli was trembling. And it had nothing to do with the cool air over slightly damp skin. Bilbo kept on whispering those words against him even as she stood on her toes to _finally_ catch his lips in a kiss that wiped out all thoughts from his mind other than _her_. He didn’t even notice when she undid the towel and it fell to the floor. No, he was more focused on how those small hands lead larger ones to her bodice, urging him to help her out of it.

“Touch me, Fíli,” Bilbo breathed against him, dark jade eyes hazy with desire. “Like you did before.”

She smiled, a soft impossibly fond smile when he actually whimpered, his fingers carefully working the lacing on the bodice open enough so he could pull it over her head. Fíli let his hands roam on their own, abandoning all thinking altogether when soft kisses turned deeper, more demanding, flashes of pleasure from years ago blitzing through his mind. He remembered how she had felt and sounded and tasted… and he wanted all of it again.

 

Hands skilled in dark arts whispered over her, untying laces and ribbons, her skirts falling to the floor, continued up and up, caressing the delicate column of her throat, so wonderfully unmarred, into her hair where he pulled out pins. He wanted to see the honey curls fall free, to feel her hair flow over his hands like a silken waterfall. Only… how many bloody pins did she have in there!? By the time he was seriously considering asking her, he seemed to finally get the _one_ that held it all up and masses of honey tresses finally came tumbling down, long enough to reach the small of her back. How had he not noticed that before?

“You saved it.” Fíli rasped, unable to take his gaze off of all that hair, more beautiful than anything he had ever seen on any elf or dwarrowdam.

“It felt wrong to cut it.” Bilbo murmured softly. “Which is why I keep it up, it is constantly in my way.”

Fíli wanted to say that that could easily be fixed with braids, that he'd braid it for her later, that he'd give her anything her heart desired, but hands whispering over his skin to pull him closer to a warm body, lips already swollen from kisses demanding more, derailed him.

 

Bilbo gasped into the next kiss when her shift finally hit the floor countless moments later, revealing her to his hungry gaze. He looked at her as if she was a feast and he was a starving man. She didn’t mind at all, she wanted him to gorge himself on her, to take as much as he wanted and then more. She felt him against her belly, already hard for her, and she felt the same desire echo in her core. The memories of that one night in Bree had kept her warm when he was far away, when there was no one else whose touch she could stand. She didn’t want to rely on those memories any longer, she wanted new ones… and thus she took him by the hands and backed away, pulling him with her on the way to the bed.

 

Fíli went willingly, his gaze riveted to her sensual curves, softly rounded hips and belly, breasts that made his mouth water for a taste. When her knees hit the bedframe he took a step closer, right up to her to wrap an arm around her and carefully lift her higher on the bed, away from the edge. Her legs spread for him to rest in between and he did, knowing it was where he belonged. When her scent hit him he drew a deep breath to feel more. He needed more! Pressing one last hungry kiss to her delicious mouth he slowly made his way down over her body, ignoring her whimpers or attempts to stop him. He was going to taste her and he was going to taste her _now_. He spent less time worshipping her ample bosom than he would’ve liked to, sucking hard on one nipple, earning a mewl, then moving on to the other to torment it with hints of teeth and feather light licks. He would have done more but he was starting to go stir-crazy and so he continued on, pressing one soft kiss after another as he went until he could finally bury his face between luscious thighs.

 

Mahal, if Fíli had been a young buck he would’ve spilled just from feeling her on his tongue again. He thought he had remembered her better than that but he was wrong, oh how wrong he had been! He carefully parted her delicate folds, placing kittenish licks over her pearl… then simply feasted without holding back. He _devoured_ her, drank himself full after years of drought, revelling in every sweet noise and every little jerk of her hips against him. He wanted her to reach her peak under his tongue, wanted her to soar and with a hoarse cry he got what he wanted, the noise music to his ears.

 

Not wanting to push her into oversensitivity, Fíli moved away from her pearl when she ever so slowly came down from her high. She was panting then, basking in her afterglow and he pressed soft kisses to her rosy skin on his way back up, starting at the delicious tendon in her loin. He was so hard he hurt but it mattered little for this is what he wanted, his One, his Bilbo, beneath his hands, drunk on pleasure. Fíli hummed when her hands found his hair, buried themselves in the thick tresses and pulled him up into a hungry kiss. Bilbo didn’t mind the taste of herself on his tongue or the dampness in his moustache and beard, if anything it seemed to fan her embers back to life. When she met his gaze her jade green eyes were heavy-lidded yet alert at the same time.

“That was nice,” she purred, earning a slow grin in between kisses to her jaw and up to the tip of her ear. “I know something else nice though.”

“Hm?” Fíli rumbled, taking delight in the pleasurable shivers he caused. “Do you now? And what would that be, amrâlimê?”

“Claim me, Fíli,” Bilbo murmured right back, knowing he loved hearing her voice her desires. “Long and hard, chase the lonely years away.”

 

There was nothing he could deny her. Pressing his forehead to hers Fíli slid inside her on one billowing motion, ripping twin moans out of them both. He lost track of time after that. He moved against her like their Makers intended them to, steadily, firmly, taking her just the way she had asked for. A piece Fíli had missed ever since that night in Bree finally slotted back into place. Only this wasn’t a night shared between strangers, this was his _One_ , the mother of his child, his intended and future queen. She was the reason Fíli _was_. And he felt it in every thrust of his hips and every groan rolling from his tongue. He nearly sobbed when small warm hands slid over his body, greedy yet so loving, how they clung to him to never let him go. He was surrounded by her and there was no other place he'd rather be than right there.

When he suddenly found himself on his back he didn’t even stop, only smiled at the ethereal creature above him and kept on giving. Bilbo was simply stunning in her pleasure. She rode him with confidence, biting her bottom lip as she did so, her hands wandering to play with sensitive nipples like she had before. But her gaze didn’t leave his, not once.  In those sparkling depths he saw what she wanted. Her voice when she uttered the same want was a soft rasp, chasing wonderful shivers down his spine, tightening that coil low in his gut further.

“Come for me, _Fíli_ ,” Bilbo murmured, smiling and moving just a little harder against him. She ground her hips firmer, earning herself another low moan. “My beloved dwarf, come for me…”

 

As much as he wanted to resist, he wanted to see her come again first, the orgasm ripped through him without Fíli's input. His body bowed beneath hear, a hoarse cry ripped from deep within him and somewhere Fíli was aware his grip on her hips must be more than enough to bruise but for the love of him, he couldn’t help it. His body had a will of its own and right now it wanted nothing more than to get closer to Bilbo, as close as possible, as deep as he could get wasn’t close enough! When he finally came down he did so with a soft whimper. So oversensitive, so _wired_ the pleasure hurt… yet nowhere near sated. For now.

When he opened his eyes, Bilbo met him with a soft smile and feather light kisses to his face, over his forehead, down his brow and cheek until she finally claimed his lips for herself again. She didn’t seem the least disappointed for not having reached her peak a second time, rather she looked absolutely content. Just lying there, looking at him, she seemed to bask just as much as he did, humming softly while running her fingers through the sun kissed tresses around his face. It brought a soft smile to his features as well.

“My hobbit lass.” Fíli murmured, earning another bout of soft kisses to his features.

“My dwarven prince.”

 

Bilbo smiled at him… only to blink when he shifted just a touch, and all of a sudden she was back on her back, a gasp falling from her lips. She was never going to get used to how ridiculous strong he was. She never got the chance to say anything though, because Fíli leaned down to claim her lips in a heated kiss, fully intending to fan her embers once more. She was _his_ to love, he had no intention of leaving her unsatisfied, no matter how selfless she was. That just wasn’t done where he came from. That would be _rude_.

 

-

 

 _Hours_ later, and more pleasure than Fíli could remember currently, they were still in bed, tucked up together, sweaty and satiated. They had spent the last long while talking about anything and everything, getting to know one another even better than what their little evening talks had allowed. Especially with a curious fauntling between them. Fíli told her of Erebor, of her grand halls and walkways, of the glimmering floors and delicately carved walls and how she wasn’t a dark kingdom but bright with light, cleverly channelled inside the mountain through adits and passages. The Kingdom of Erebor was only ever trumped by Moria, the lost realm of the dwarves. He told her of his family, of his brother and how the two had always been up to no good, pulling pranks when they could, how he and Kíli had trained under Dwalin ever since they were big enough to hold a weapon without causing themselves or others harm. Fíli told her of his mother, how strong Dís was, how she had had to be when her husband perished… and he told her how he had grown up in Ered Luin under Thorin, his uncle and King.

 

Bilbo listened to it all with wide eyes, asking questions when there was something she didn’t understand, but otherwise simply relished in his low voice. When he had no more to say, for now, she told him of her beloved parents, of Bungo Baggins who married Belladonna Took, even though it wasn’t anywhere near the respectable thing to do. Not that Bungo had cared a lick because Belladonna had been his soulmate, _his_ One, and he loved her with every fibre of his being. So he built her Bag End. Fíli had blinked at that, looking around the cosy room with new eyes, only now seeing the loving attention to detail, to make everything _perfect_ , that permeated the smial. Silently he was beyond impressed that a hobbit had built it all on his own, and for love no less. Granted, Bag End was large because Bungo and Belladonna had expected to have a large family, but for reasons Bilbo wasn’t entirely sure of, there had only ever been her. And when her father perished during the Fell Winter… well, Belladonna had only grown ever weaker since, only strong enough to see her daughter come of age before her heart could take no more and she followed Bungo to the Green Lady’s Gardens. After that there had only been Bilbo… and a seemingly never-ending string of suitors who only saw her for her wealth and home.

Bilbo snorted, absentmindedly running her fingers through his chest hair, luxuriating in the feeling between her fingers. For being a hobbit, she was ridiculously enamoured with body hair. But only Fíli's as it were.

 

“You should have seen them.” she sighed. “Some did not even bother to pretend, just asked me out right if I would marry them so they could become the ‘Master of Bag End’. Some even said they were willing to plant as many seeds in my belly as I wanted, as if I had no other function or value beyond marriage and motherhood.” She looked up into slightly disturbed cerulean blue eyes. “As much as I longed for a child of my own I refused to get married, not like that, so can you blame me for going to Bree to find myself a ‘bull’?” she asked unsurely. “Though the one I was there to meet failed to show up.” Bilbo added on a sour afternote.

“And I am happy for it. With the pull I felt towards you at that inn, just from seeing you, I might have had to fight him for you.” Fíli grinned, stroking her cheek gently. How could she be so soft and not bruise like a peach?

His low words earned him another snort, Bilbo rolling her eyes while placing delicate kisses to his fingertips. She had no idea how easily she could make his heart flutter.

 

“He would not have stood a chance against you, Mighty Warrior Prince,” she sniggered. “He is a ne'er-do-well bum whose only skill lay in downing drink and producing bastards. You would have to do little more than glare at him and he would have cowered before you.” Bilbo sighed, moving closer to bury her face in that glorious pelt and inhale his scent. He was so warm and so solid, all planes of hard muscle rather than some portly hobbit who most likely would’ve fallen asleep mere moments after he had spilled his seed. But not her Fíli, he had more in him than that and she was blessed in so many ways it hurt thinking about how close she had been to losing him on that dratted battlefield. “Fíli, after I met you, I knew I would never touch another and so I gave up the hope of a child. I did not know if dwarrow and hobbits were even compatible that way, I accepted that I would live on my own until you could come for me… then I found out that you had given me the greatest gift after all.” She looked up to let him see the truth in her eyes. “I had a piece of you to keep, growing beneath my heart.” She pressed a soft kiss to the beating heart beneath her lips. “And I vowed, that when I found you again, whenever and wherever that may be, I would show you the blessing you had given me. One way or another, _we_ would get back to you.”

“And with that bead you would have found me.” Fíli mused.

Speaking of which… he still hadn’t put it in her hair. Bilbo still wore it around her neck.

 

Without a word he urged her to sit up in bed, facing the hearth and the low burning fire within. Smiling softly to himself Fíli combed his fingers through her tousled curls, carefully separating the sections he needed… then he started to braid. He had intended to do it much sooner but he had wanted this first time of him putting that braid and bead in to be special and somehow, he had never found the right moment. However, he had found it _now_. Humming a low dwarven song, he worked the stubborn honey curls into an intricate plait behind her left ear, working her hair into a fine rope, finally finishing it off with the bead of Durin.

“Now you are truly marked as my intended, my Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.” Fíli murmured, pressing a kiss to her naked shoulder.

 

When she turned to face him, the soft glow from the fire turning her hair into copper tinged gold, her eyes more brilliant than any emerald in Erebor and her skin a creamy velvet, she took his breath away. This woman right here, was _his_. She was his _One_ , she was his _intended_ , she was his _future queen_ , she was the _mother_ of his child… _she was his, Fíli's_. What else could he possibly do but lean in to capture her lips once more?

 

-

 

When they finally left the bedroom, another hour or so later, who cared, it was time for dinner and they were both starved. While Fíli was prepared for the reaction they'd get, Bilbo however was completely caught off guard.

As they entered the kitchen, the dwarrow in there suddenly rose to their feet… and bowed before her.

“Your Highness.” they greeted her solemnly, earning wide eyes and a furious blush.

“Why this all of a sudden?” Bilbo sputtered, not entirely sure what to do with herself. Sure, they had called her that before, here and there, but those times certainly hadn’t been this serious!

“I told you,” Fíli mumbled softly against a pointed ear. “That you are finally marked as my intended.”

“Oh… oh my.” Bilbo swallowed hard, offering the grave dwarves an embarrassed little smile. Only at the back of her head did she wonder how much they had heard of what she and Fíli had been up to that day. “Well, true as that may be, this is the Shire and we have no royalty here.” she pressed out awkwardly. “So I will have no such titles used in my home.”

“But-” Glóin tried but was unceremoniously cut off.

“No buts. I will not have you call me ‘Your Highness’ while you are guests in my home. My name will do just fine.” Ignoring the horror on several faces, and the smirk on Fíli's, the smug bastard had known about this, she turned to her pantry to grab what she needed to start on dinner… blinking when she suddenly realised she had forgotten something _very_ important. “Where is Adalgrim?”

“Oh, he is still with the Gamgees… Miss Bilbo.” Nori winked at her. “I went over there before and asked Mrs Gamgee if she would not mind having him for one more night, since his parents had ‘caught a bug’.”

There was no way Bell Gamgee had bought that excuse. Hamfast wasn’t stupid either. Bilbo mentally whimpered and continued to the pantry… ignoring the laughter behind her.

 

-

 

When Fíli woke up the next morning, later than he had become used to what with an early rising pebble who demanded first breakfast at the crack of dawn, he was met with the sight of Bilbo sleeping soundly, curled up against him. Her hair fanned out over the pillows in rivulets of honeyed silk, the one braid behind her left ear and the silver bead a stark contrast. She was naked beneath the sheets, the two of them having taken proper advantage of not having to worry about a curious child suddenly booming in through the door, wondering what they were up to, and it made the blond smile. When he leaned down to press a kiss to her temple one of his stashebraids tickled her nose and the little nose wiggle he earned in return was the most precious thing he had ever seen. So naturally he did it again… only to laugh out loud when her hand shot out and she caught him by it. Endearingly annoyed jade green eyes peered at him from under thick lashes.

“What did I do to earn such a rude waking, dwarf?” she muttered, not interested in waking up at all, even though her inner clock told her it was almost time for elevenses rather than second breakfast.

“Per chance I merely wished to kiss my One…” Fíli smirked. “And in my defence, I never intended to wake you, that was an accident... hobbit.”

“Yet that is what your actions caused.” Bilbo shifted slightly to lay on her back, her other hand coming up to catch him by the other braid. Her eyes twinkled when she tugged a little and he obediently leaned down to kiss her good morning properly. “Say, is this the reason you have these? For a lass to grab you by when she desires a kiss?”

“If I said yes, would that anger you?”

“Depends. How many times has it worked.”

“Once. Just now.”

Her laughter at the blunt answer was delighted and chased shivers of enrapture down Fíli's spine. _‘So this is what happiness feels like.’_ he thought to himself even as he rolled around with her in the large bed, placing her on top of him so he could look up at the goddess that his One was to him.

Bilbo leaned down to steal kisses, earning herself content hums and a little chuckle when she trailed more across his jaw and down his throat… finally earning herself a gasp when sharp teeth carefully closed over a sensitive nub.

“You minx!” Fíli rasped, looking down at his hobbit… who merely grinned at him.

“Oh, I will show you ‘minx’, my prince.” With that Bilbo continued downwards to disappear in under the duvet.

The next sound she ripped from him was a low groan. Fíli could get used to mornings like these indeed!

 

-

 

When Adalgrim returned later that day, it was to the sight of seeing his mother work in the garden, a little smile playing on her lips, and his father sparring with some of his guards.

“Mummy!” he cheered, flying towards her, holding her hard when she caught him and peppered his little face with kisses.

“Look at you!” she smiled at him, that warm smile that made Adalgrim feel like there were no bad things in the world, no bullies, no bad weather and all the cookies he could eat. “All dirty! What have you been up to, my little adventurer?”

“Sam and F’odo found f’ogs by the c’eek!”

“Did they now?” Bilbo asked, her green eyes widening in wonder. “Were they big frogs? Were there any toads?”

“No,” Adal shook his head, frowning slightly. “Only f’ogs.”

“Do you want to tell Master Bofur about the frogs? Maybe he can make one for you if you ask really nicely?”

Bofur happened to be one of the dwarrow who had opted out of sparring, preferring instead to laze in the shade of a tree while smoking his pipe. He had grown quite fond of Bilbo's pipeweed as it were.

Bilbo smiled when the boy flashed her a toothy grin, pressed a dirty kiss to her cheek and scampered off towards the toymaker to let him know everything about the adventures he had experienced with Sam and Frodo and their frog hunt by the creek. Bilbo didn’t doubt for a minute that it had all been under the watchful eye of Bell. With how many children Mrs Gamgee had already, her touch where fauntlings were concerned, bordered on magic. Even from there she could see how the hatted dwarf smiled that cheerful little smile, even as Adal told him all about the fun he'd had, most likely spewing words so fast he forgot half.

 

Knowing her son was sufficiently distracted for now, and should there be need she was sure the other dwarves would step in to make sure Adal didn’t suddenly approach the fighters while they trained, Bilbo returned to her gardening. As much as she enjoyed having these particular guests in her smial, there had been some chores who ended up forgotten in the whole ordeal and weeding happened to be one of those chores. So she hummed softly to herself, grateful that Fíli had done _something_ to her hair to keep it out of her face and eyes while she worked. She tried not to peek _too_ much at the blond dwarf because if she did… well, she might have to drag her dwarf behind a tree or something to kiss him silly, and that was just not respectable. She may have abandoned most rules where proper conduct was concerned, but _some_ things just weren’t done. Kissing your soulmate senseless in broad daylight, and out of the bedroom, was one of those things. Though she might show her appreciation later.

 

Smiling to herself, thinking about how she had ‘greeted’ Fíli that morning, and how wonderfully he had responded to her, she shoved her trowel into the ground to dig out a particularly stubborn dandelion root… only to hear a dull _‘crack’_ for her effort. Frowning slightly she lifted it… blinking at the handle.

“Drat!”

“Is there something wrong, Your High-…” Dori swallowed hard at the glare. “…Miss Bilbo?” he corrected himself swiftly. Ignoring his slip, Bilbo sighed and held up her broken tool.

“Old thing broke.” she muttered sourly, getting to her feet. “There is nothing for it, I will have to go to Bree.”

“To Bree?” Glóin asked, having heard the exchange. “For a mere garden tool? Can you not fix it in Hobbiton?”

“I would if I could, Master Glóin.” Bilbo shrugged, gathering her things and walked back towards her smial. “However, the closest blacksmith happens to be in Bree. Do not worry, I should be back within a seven-day, and I will prepare plenty of foods for you before I leave.”

“Leave? Are you leaving?” Fíli asked, wiping his sweat from his brow, having decided to take a break from sparring for now. Behind him Nori gave one of the guards a run for his money. The thief may not be a trained warrior but he was fast and limber and he knew where to aim for it to hurt.

“Only for Bree, dear.” Bilbo replied calmly. She was more focused on mentally going through her pantries and making a checklist for what she needed to restock before she left. Surely these manly men knew how to fry sausages on their own and with Fíli there, she didn’t have to worry about bringing Adalgrim along. He had never been that far away from home before.

 

She didn’t notice the group of dwarrow clomping behind her, only remembering at the very last moment that she didn’t like boots indoors. They nearly faceplanted onto her hallway floor with the sudden change in momentum trying to keep their feet outside the threshold.

“Why do you need to go all the way to Bree?” Fíli asked, having kicked his boots off and hurried inside after her, damn near skidding over the tiles as he did so.

“Hm?” Bilbo hummed, still thinking of spuds and onions and meat. Stews should be easy enough for them to prepare on their own, right? “Oh! Well, they have a blacksmith in Bree and my trowel just broke. I might as well take all my tools for repair while I am there.”

Cerulean eyes blinked at her comically.

“Bilbo, have you forgotten that you have a house full of _dwarrow_?” he asked her quizzically. “There is no need to go to Bree!”

“But you have no forge.” She finally turned to frown at him. “How are you going to work metal without one?”

“Is there really no forge in Hobbiton?” Fíli blinked at her. Surely there must be a forge _somewhere_ closer to Hobbiton than _Bree_!

“There is an old one,” Bilbo answered unsurely. “But it has not been used in decades!”

“Then we shall take a look at it and see what needs to be done!” Glóin rumbled, his moustache trembling with excitement. He wasn’t the only one who grabbed his gear and prepared to march down to the town. All of a sudden all the dwarves were excited!

“Masters Dwarf!” Bilbo pressed out, feeling a bit hysterical. “It will not stop at my tools, that much I can I promise you!” she tried reasoning with them. “If you fire up that forge you will have hobbits coming out of the woodworks!”

“All the better!” came the happy reply. “That way we can do something productive with our time!”

 

-

 

Well… she hadn’t been wrong, that much was for sure. The dwarves had descended upon the old forge like ants, going over the bellows and the coals and the structural integrity of the forge itself and surely those anvils could still be used? And those hammers could easily get new handles if they were swift about it? There were even a few ingots and billets laying around that they could use! They couldn’t just walk in and fire up however. The forge, as derelict as it was, did belong to a hobbit and it was with determination that Glóin tracked down the old badger and proceeded to showing him _why_ exactly you did _not_ want to bargain with a dwarven banker. Glóin ran his ass over _gracefully_. He paid the hobbit a generous sum of gold for the use of the forge and all the tools, clearly stating that they would fix themselves what they needed fixing but any and all earnings from the smithy would go to the dwarves and them alone. There would be no sudden ‘rent’ or ‘fees’ or ‘taxes’, not if he knew what was good for him. With a contract in place, signed and sealed, the dwarrow were ready to get to work. They fired up the forge to fix Bilbo's garden tools… and again, she hadn’t been wrong.

 

Barely had they gotten the fire going, the dull roar of the bellows indicating that it was indeed working, before there were hobbits coming around to see what was going on. Upon realising that there were _dwarves_ working the forge, and dwarves meant _dwarven quality_ , they soon disappeared… only to return positively _laden_ with items that needed fixing. There were shovels and hoes and hinges and iron salamanders… Bilbo found herself staring almost comically when Tolman Proudfoot of all people, came with a wheelbarrow full of things he needed repaired! The dwarrow inspected it all, could it be repaired or not, what needed done, did they have material to use? Thankfully, a few hobbits didn’t mind paying in useless iron and steel items that could be repurposed. And with Glóin there, no one got away with trying to get the labour done for cheap… though some tried. Even Farmer Maggot came to have an old lock looked at! Bilbo cringed seeing it all. For while hobbits cared little for gold or pretty gems, they certainly wouldn’t shy away from trying to strike a bargain if they could. Also, they were obviously too bloody lazy to go all the way to Bree!

 

“My apologies.” she mumbled lowly when Fíli came out of the forge, laughing at something one of the others had yelled at him in Khuzdûl, carrying her repaired garden tools. “I tried to warn you that this would happen.”

“Nothing to apologise for, amrâlimê.” Fíli grinned, looking back towards the forge. “There is always at least one blacksmith in every travelling group, and there happened to be two in mine, so I am happy they have something to do other than merely sit around. And if they make a little coin for themselves, all the better!”

“There were no blacksmiths in your Company?”

“Sure there was!” the blond sniggered, leaning in to steal a kiss without touching his dirty hands to her lovely floral gown. “My uncle is a Master blacksmith.”

“Your-…” Jade green eyes turned the size of saucers. “But I thought you said your uncle was the king!?”

“He is!” Fíli laughed out loud, winking at her even as they started back towards Bag End. “But every dwarf has a Craft and my uncle chose to become a blacksmith.”

“And you? Do you have a Craft?”

“Of course I do, my beloved, I am a dwarf!”

“And what is your Craft?” Bilbo asked curiously. How much was there to learn about the dwarrow? She felt like she learned something new about her soulmate every single day! Warrior, prince, Craftsman… what else could he do?

Besides turning her brain into mush with a smile or that otherwise talented mouth of his that is?

“Me? I am a Master goldsmith.” Fíli replied warmly. “There has always been something about gold and the warmth of its colour that called to me.” Seeing her hair shimmering in the sunlight might explain where that allure came from. “Kíli on the other hand, always preferred silver, just like our mother.”

“I see…” Bilbo suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. “Your brother did not see my mother’s locket, did he?”

“Of course he did, why?”

“It must have seemed terribly simple to him.” Bilbo murmured, feeling her ears warm. What had she been thinking, giving a piece of jewellery to a dwarf? She blinked when Fíli was suddenly in front of her again, a strong hand gently urging her chin up so he could look her in the eye.

“Kíli told me that it was beautiful.” Fíli mumbled over her lips. “Not for the craftsmanship behind it, but for the love it held.”

Wonderful, soppy, sentimental, beloved, cunning _dwarf_!

 

Feeling her cheeks warm as well, Bilbo pressed her lips to his, despite his knowing smile gracing his features.

“I love you, Fíli.” she murmured, looking right into cerulean blue eyes… eyes that widened before her.

Suddenly aching for her, for he hadn’t heard those words fall from her lips before, Fíli took a step closer, right into her space, strong hands oh so gently cupping her jaw and neck. He didn’t care that he had filthy hands, in fact, he had completely forgotten about anything else but _her_.

“Amrâlimê,” he rasped, unable to take his eyes off of luminous dark jade green. “With everything that _I am_ , I love you.” A mere tinge of desperation, of hope, coloured his voice underneath the pure love. “ _Marry me_.”

It definitely wasn’t how Fíli had envisioned himself proposing, not at all. He hadn’t imagined himself covered in grime and sweat from clearing and setting up an old forge, he hadn’t imagined himself asking in the middle of a road between Bag End and Hobbiton with a basket full of garden tools and flowers at their feet… he had envisioned himself dressed in royal garb, taking a knee, asking the traditional way with a courting gift made by his own hand, quite possibly in Erebor. And yet…

 

And yet he wouldn’t have it any other way for Bilbo was _beautiful_ in how her wide eyes suddenly shone with so much _love_ and _warmth_ , how a shy little smile suddenly graced those impossibly soft lips, how she didn’t care a lick about the dirt on her face. She only saw _him_ and in her eyes he could read her like an open book.

“Yes.”

The soft murmur rocked Fíli's world. Blinking at her, for he couldn’t have heard wrong, could he, he swallowed hard. But it was right there for him to see, in the way she stepped even closer, how small hands held his wrists tightly, how she looked at him with _wonder_.

“Yes?” He had to ask! Just to make sure!

“Yes,” Bilbo smiled against his lips. “Fíli, Son of Víli, _my dwarf_ , I will marry you.”

Later she would admonish him for dirtying her pretty dress but right then Fíli didn’t care. Wonderfully in love and so _relieved_ that she would have him as hers, Fíli lifted her up and spun her in the air, laughing like a fool. And when she couldn’t help laughing right back, joy and love brilliant stars in her eyes, he lowered her into his arms, held her close and kissed her with everything he had. Neither noticed the curious bystanders and if they had, neither would’ve cared at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whohoo! We’re getting somewhere! Let there be weddings!  
> And smut… though seriously, I can write the porniest fucking there is but I suck at writing lovemaking O__o” I tried! So uhm… yeah… weddings. 
> 
> Please DO keep the lovely comments coming! Look at what you're making me do! I’m updating much faster than I want! I posted the last chapter three DAYS ago! ;__;  
> Lissy, I blame you for this -__-  
> I get so wonderfully inspired and motivated to keep writing and posting! ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥


	6. Chapter 6

The first person who heard of Bilbo and Fíli getting married, _despite_ the grapevine, was of course Adalgrim. The fauntling stared at his parents with wide eyes… then promptly broke out into a wailing bawl that had Bofur and Nori come running wondering what was going on. Over the sound of a child’s distressed crying Fíli awkwardly explained to them what had happened, earning himself wide grins and excited cheers from the two.

They were going to throw a wedding!

Of course, once Bilbo had explained to her precious boy that a wedding was something _good_ , something wonderful to celebrate, and that it didn’t mean that his mother was leaving him behind, Adal was slightly more for it… though not entirely convinced quite yet. A little prodding from a certain Spymaster later and _Bofur_ had to be restrained not to storm over to the Sackville-Bagginses and tell them _exactly_ what he thought of sprouting lies to a child. Apparently, the son of a certain nasty hobbit had lead little Adalgrim to believe that when Bilbo married, assuming she ever found anyone willing to have her, she would lose all love for Adal and kick him out. Adalgrim being a mere innocent fauntling had believed every word.

Regardless of whomever sired him, Lotho sure took after his mother in terms of character.

 

Bilbo and Fíli, as much as they would’ve dearly loved to storm over and demand answers, decided to properly explain weddings to their son instead. How there would be a large party under the Party Tree and how there would be so much yummy foods to eat his tummy would ache from all the desserts, and singing and dancing and all his friends could come and celebrate with him! Because a wedding meant that Adalgrim's mummy would become his da’s wife, and his da would become his mummy’s husband. Their love and relationship would be ‘official’, no one could ever court them again or keep them apart. Mummy and da would be together forever. And Adal of course, would be right there with them because they loved him _so much_ and wanted him to share their joy! Adalgrim Baggins wasn’t going anywhere!

Still, finally having his pebble onboard didn’t mean Fíli, or some of the others, didn’t want to find said brat and have _words_ with him about lying any less. They just hid it better.

 

That evening Bilbo didn’t even bother tucking her boy into his own bed. She carried him to her and Fíli's bedroom, wanting him close after two days apart and she knew Fíli wanted it, and needed it, just as much. While Fíli put braids in Bilbo's hair, their little family all gathered up in the large bed in the master bedroom, Bilbo played clapping games with their son. Nimble fingers remade the braid which marked her as Fíli's intended behind her left ear, behind her right he put in the braid for motherhood, fastening it with a little wooden bead he had made before. Once he had the right materials, he'd fashion the prettiest beads and clasps he could imagine for her, but for now wood would have to do. Then, when he was done, and Fíli sat down to put a braid in his son’s hair, short as it was, he was surprised when Bilbo moved to braid _his_ hair. Bilbo smiled shyly.

“Only if you wish, my love.” she murmured softly. She didn’t know that her hands running through the golden tresses felt like warm water over his senses. Only his immediate family had braided his hair before, first uncle Thorin and his mother, and later Kíli, when he had learned how to without causing too many tangles. To have _Bilbo_ braid it for him… Fíli swallowed hard, and nodded.

“Of course, amrâlimê.” he rasped. “It would be my pleasure.” And if his fingers suddenly fumbled a little in sunny curls, then Fíli blamed it on Adal's inability to sit still rather than the feeling of gentle fingertips running through his hair to section and work into simple yet pretty plaits, tied off with thin ribbons.

 

-

 

Within the next week Bilbo sent out invitations and all of a sudden, the peace and tranquillity of Bag End was gone. Primula showed up, absolutely delighted to _finally_ be helping out with a wedding for her cousin, Esmeralda and Eglantine knocked on the door so early in the morning not even Adalgrim had woken up yet and if the Old Took hadn’t already given Fíli the Shovel Talk, then they sure did. Fíli, Son of Víli, Crown Prince of Erebor, held great respect for the two elderly hobbit ladies, if nothing else then because he valued his beard and his stones. He had, in no _un_ certain terms, been told _exactly_ what they would do with them and _where_ they would bury them if it ever came to their knowledge he had hurt Bilbo. Fíli and Glóin hadn’t been the only ones to lose colour at their colourful descriptions of how skilled they were with mushroom knives. Hamfast and Drogo had stepped through the door just as the two were in the middle of telling a room full of terrified dwarrow _how_ to use the brush when they abruptly backtracked and scampered before they could be noticed. One look was telling enough, those two had heard it all before and had no desire to revisit whatever mental imagery that were currently painted in the dwarves’ minds.

Bilbo herself was blissfully unaware of it all of course and if she frowned slightly at Fíli's pallor later, well, then he wasn’t going to tell her that one of the Heroes and Warriors of Erebor was terrified of two little hobbits. Fíli seriously doubted any of his men would admit that willingly either so at least he wasn’t alone.

 

“I know you wish your family could be here for this.” Bilbo murmured into her teacup late one evening as they sat in her kitchen and just _breathed_. The Company of Fíli had been spread out over half the Shire that day in errands and chores and as much as the dwarrow were happy to help, they had all excused themselves early that night nonetheless. The blacksmiths still worked the forge, might as well since they had work up to their beards, Glóin had been sent to Michel Delving to order ale, wine and mead for the wedding, Dori and Nori had gone to the markets to see however much they could get their hands on of the _very_ impressive shopping list they’d been sent with and Bofur, the sweetheart, had taken it on himself to keep the fauntlings out of everyone’s way while the adults ran around preparing. Gerontius himself had helped out with some of the preparations, sitting at the table and sneaking treats whenever the women turned their backs. In the end he had been kicked out of the kitchen to do his bit outside instead, much to his dismay.

 

Fíli swallowed his mouthful of wine and drew a deep sigh.

“That is true, I would have preferred to have my family here, especially my brother,” he smiled. “But then again, I am fairly sure there will be a wedding held for us in Erebor whenever we get there so do not worry about it.”

“Another wedding?” Bilbo frowned slightly. In all honesty she was too tired to do much thinking. She had helped with weddings before but admittedly, she had never had to do _this_ much. Thank goodness you only got married once… or so she thought. “Why would we hold _another_ wedding?”

“ _You_ be the one to deprive my dear mother of the joy of planning a grand royal wedding.” Fíli snorted into his wine. “I value my life more than that.”

“… _why_?” Bilbo whined pitifully, finally letting her head fall down on the wooden surface. After another moment of low grumbling Fíli heard a mutter from the table top. “As long as _I_ am spared, I do not mind my future mother-in-law the joys of planning such a feast. Let her have _all_ the fun.”

“Look at you,” the blond grinned. “Knowing how to wrangle the King Sister already!”

“Do not remind me of your, or their, titles. As far as I am concerned, you are a dwarf like any other.”

“But I _am_ a dwarf like any other, my darling.”

Resting her chin on the table, much like Adalgrim did when he didn’t want to finish his spinach, Bilbo levelled her intended with a truly vile glare… not noticing how he bit his lip not to laugh at her.

“No, you are not!” she snapped at him. “There is _nothing_ average about you!”

“Try telling Kíli that.”

“Alright, you asked for it,” Bilbo drew a deep breath while sitting back up, because she clearly had to clarify a few things here. Counting off on her fingers she started her list. “You have the prettiest face I have ever come across, on dwarf and hobbit alike. You are intelligent, gentle, loving, you have a lovely singing voice, you have a beautiful body, no, shut up, you do, your hands are skilled in many things, stop grinning, Fíli, you have very soft hair, a wonderful smile, you are a trained, and trialled, warrior, you literally ruled a dwarven kingdom, you are a _fantastic_ father, not to mention even your-… _sword_ is the best I have ever had!” Bilbo counted off… then froze when she realised _what_ exactly she had confessed to there on the end. Blinking comically, she looked up, right into wide cerulean eyes staring just as comically at her over the rim of the wine glass. “I should not have said that.” she pressed out, feeling her face flush with heat… and abruptly fled the kitchen.

Fíli _didn’t_ bowl over the kitchen table in his mad scramble after her down the hall… but it was damn close.

 

-

 

“Are you sure about this?” Fíli asked unsurely, eyeing his beloved as they stopped outside the gate. “This does not seem like a good idea to me at all.”

“Even if is not, it is certainly worth a try.” Bilbo murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, then stepped through the gate. She took a deep breath for mental strength and courage… then knocked on the yellow door.

A moment later Lobelia opened it, only to scowl at her.

“What do _you_ want, _Miss Baggins?_ ” she sneered, clearly unhappy with the sudden visitor.

“I have come to personally invite you to my wedding, Mrs Sackville-Baggins.” Bilbo replied, offering the other hobbit a little smile. She didn’t like treating others badly and what she had done to the other hobbit in Hobbiton had certainly caused the brunette some damage… even if she deserved it at the time. Regardless, Bilbo was trying to mend fences, in hope that they could bury the animosity between them once and for all. “It would make me really happy if you came.” She held out the envelope, a token of truce and possible peace.

Lobelia narrowed her eyes at her, staring at the Baggins for a while, glancing towards Fíli, who had decided to stay down on the road and wait, then back. Hesitantly she took the invitation.

“We shall see.” she sniffed. “I am terribly busy you see.”

“I do understand,” Bilbo offered another little smile. “But please do come celebrate with us if you can find the time.”

With that said, Bilbo bid the Sackville-Baggins a farewell and returned to her beloved, offering him a hesitant smile when he took her hand to kiss her knuckles.

“Home?”

“Home.”

“Do you think she will show up?” Fíli murmured softly, when they were halfway back to Bag End. He earned himself a shrug.

“Maybe, maybe not? Either way, at the very least, inviting her is the right thing to do.”

 

-

 

The day before the wedding Fíli, and Adalgrim, were kicked out of Bag End. They were told that it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding and thus, Bilbo's _men_ got the pleasure of spending the night at the Green Dragon. Two of Fíli's guards came along of course, as safe as the Shire was it was still their Prince, and their Prince’s son, and they had no intentions of leaving anything up to chance. If they did, more than some were convinced something would happen, an orc infestation, another bloody dragon, hey, maybe murdering pumpkins for all they cared! Either way, Fíli wasn’t going to be staying at the inn by himself. Nope, nuh uh.

 

Bilbo smiled softly as she opened the glory chest in the hallway and took out a package carefully wrapped in silk paper and tied with a broad silk ribbon.

“Ooh, what is that?” Dori peered over her shoulder where she sat on the floor in the hallway, earning himself a soft smile.

“This, Master Dori, is a wedding gown.” Bilbo replied lowly, gratefully taking the offered hand to help her to her feet. With him in tow she went to the empty kitchen and carefully placed the package on the table and slowly untied the ribbon to let the paper fall away. “My mother wore it when she got married.” Bilbo murmured, tracing a hand over the delicate lace. “She knew she would follow my father before I ever found my own One and thus she would not be able to help me make my own, so we took hers and changed it.” She offered the dwarf a little smile. “It took us many weeks to make it.”

The bodice was a beautiful white brocade and the large balloon sleeves were made of delicate gossamer. The skirt had a petticoat with layers and layers underneath to make it full and on top a cover of thick creamy satin rested, lovingly embroidered with countless little flowers and leaves, and delicate lace all along the hem.

“It is beautiful.” Dori smiled, knowing high quality when he saw it. “Simply stunning, and _you_ will look stunning in it, Miss Bilbo.”

“I certainly hope so.” Bilbo smiled, taking the dress and carefully shaking it out. She grimaced. “Though it definitely needs a washing. It stinks of cedar and lavender.” Even though the glory chest was made of cedar you could never be too careful and Bilbo had placed new pouches of lavender potpourri in there regularly ever since they finished the dress, many years ago. “You see, Master Dori,” She held the wonderful gown to herself looking down, imagining it on tomorrow and how pretty she would be. “On the night before the wedding, brides hang up their gowns outside to catch the night air. It is said that the love and hope that has gone into making the dress will catch the most beautiful of dreams and make them come true when she wears it.” She looked up to see a delightful smile on the dwarf’s face. “And it will smell of the night flowers and dew.”

“You have such lovely traditions here in the Shire.” Dori sighed dreamily. “Nothing like us dwarrow where we don precious gems and metals in our hair and beards and call it a day.”

“Well, if we had such stunning beards as you do, Master Dwarf, I am sure we would put pretty things in it too!” Bilbo chuckled, turning away to carefully wash the dress and hang it outside. It brought back memories seeing it again, knowing that this time it wasn’t just to air it out, but to actually wear it. Belladonna would’ve been proud of her only daughter, seeing her find love like she had, and bear him a lovechild on top of it. Yes indeed, there was more of Belladonna in Bilbo than anyone could’ve possibly expected.

 

-

 

The next morning came faster than Bilbo was prepared for. It had taken her quite a while to fall asleep, nerves and excitement and all that, and once she _did_ fall asleep, it felt as if she had barely closed her eyes before there was a knock on the door. Bilbo refused to admit it but she _skipped_ out of bed to get ready. She washed herself properly, made sure to use her favourite floral oil in her hair to make it smell nice and only then did she go out to the kitchen to get some breakfast. Blasphemy really, not eating first, but she was so _excited_ she doubted she would’ve been able to eat much anyway! Smiling at the dwarrow in her parlour, she went outside to fetch her wedding gown. The dwarves seemed as excited as she was if not more! They had been washing and mending the best of what clothing they had brought along and were all grooming and primping themselves and each other, putting braids, clasps and beads in their hair and beards.

 

Bofur was the one who opened the door after the sudden frantic banging against the hard wood. He blinked at the hobbit lass standing there, wheezing as if she had run all the way from Tuckborough.

“We have a problem!” Primula pressed out, pale as a sheet in the face.

“Problem?” he asked unsurely. “Wha’ problem? Did somethin’ happen?”

“All the party preparations!” She had to swallow hard, staring at the hatted dwarf who eyed her worriedly. “Someone has ruined all the party preparations down by the Party Tree! The decorations are all torn down and someone opened all the barrels of drink! It is all spilled on the ground!”

“Who would do such a thing?” Dori pressed out, horrified at what he had just caught the last of.

“I know who.” Nori growled, turning to the hall when they heard soft steps… only to blink when Bilbo silently went to her bedroom and closed the door behind her with a soft click. “She heard.” he pressed out.

 

That seemed to kick Primula into action. Her eyes narrowed as she stepped inside and took a look at the dwarves there.

“Gentlemen, I am in need of your service.” she said, immediately getting all of their attention. “We will not let a nasty hobbit ruin this day for Bilbo, my cousin is much too good for that, so we will fix this. Together.”

“Aye!”

“Good.” She nodded, resting her fists on her hips in determination. It was terrifying to give orders to all these warriors, and by Yavanna did her hands want to tremble, but she would have to save that for later. They had work to do. Primula sent a silent thank you to the Green Lady for the foresight of not having left _all_ the food out during the night, for the wedding cake was safe and sound. All they had to fix were decorations and new flowers and that they could do. Hopefully. “Masters Glóin and Bofur, you will have to go to the markets and see how many barrels of ale you can get your hands on, take them all! You and you and you,” She pointed to another three. “Will have to go to Farmer Maggot and see if he has any vegetables and fruit he is willing to sell. Whatever he has, buy it all, we will need it. As for the rest of us, we will have to rush down to the Party Tree and start over. Right now. We have some furniture that need mending, lanterns that need up, flowers that need tied, decorations that need replacing and a few tents that we have to put back together… and we need to clean up the mess that is already there.” She swallowed hard. “And whatever you do, do _not_ tell anything about this to Master Fíli!”

 

-

 

Dori knocked softly on Bilbo's door and stepped inside when he heard no answer.

“Miss Bilbo?” he asked lowly. “Is everything alright?” He frowned, worry marring his features when he saw her sitting there, with her hair all done up and pretty yet merely sitting there on the bed with her gown in her hands… and tears streaming down her cheeks. Stepping closer to perhaps offer some comfort, the drink was easily replaced enough and so were the decorations, so why was she so-… that’s when he saw the dress.

The beautiful white wedding gown was destroyed, shredded. Someone had taken shears to it, ruining it forever. Bilbo's mother’s wedding gown, which they had worked on together before Belladonna passed away.

“Miss Bilbo?”

“I am fine, Master Dori.” Bilbo said lowly, her voice so soft he barely heard it. Carefully she put the dress aside and stepped up to her wardrobe to rummage through it. “Nothing to worry about.”

“But your gown, your wedding gown!” the dwarf pressed out, horrified that there was such cruelty to be found in such gentlefolk as hobbits. “What will we do!?”

“I am _not_ going to cancel my wedding day over a dress, Master Dori.” Bilbo murmured, pulling out a minty green dress which she hadn’t used in a while. “I will find something else to wear. It will not be the gown I made with my mother, but it will be good enough.”

Good enough? _Good enough!?_ Dori's ears buzzed.

 

“No.” he snapped, suddenly so _angry_. “My future queen will _not_ get married in _anything_ that is merely ‘good enough’. I will not accept it!” he decided then and there, walking up to her wardrobe to see for himself what she had in there for him to work with. “Miss Bilbo, does Hobbiton have a tailor?”

“Why yes, but he will be busy with guests for the wedding.” Bilbo answered lowly.

“That matters little, I have no need of his skills. Nori!” he barked when he finally found a dress that would make a good enough base for what he had in mind. “We are going to the tailors!”

“Tailor, why?” Nori asked, stepping in through the door to ask what in all of Arda had gotten into his brother… until he saw the wedding dress that is. Then he didn’t wonder, he didn’t however make it more than two steps closer to the front door either before Dori caught him and tackled him to the floor.

“Let go’a me!” he snarled. “I am goin’ ta’ _scalp_ tha’ beardless wench!”

“You can do whatever you please _later_ , Nori, but now I need you to help me with _Miss Bilbo!_ ” Dori pressed out, having to use every bit of his strength to keep his brother from weaselling out of his grip and running off to cause carnage in the Shire. Almost frothing at the mouth to just go and cause some _proper_ damage, Nori turned to look at his hostess, noticing the large worried eyes and the tear streaks still drying on her pale cheeks. With a frustrated sigh he relaxed, knowing his brother was more than prepared to catch him again. Nori may be a damn good thief and Spymaster but Dori had a lifetime of experience in catching Nori when he didn’t want to get caught on top of that ridiculous strength.

“Aight.” he muttered. “Wha’ do ye need me ta do?”

 

-

 

The wedding was scheduled to be held in the early afternoon so as to give the meat on spits all the time it needed to roast properly while the guests could tease themselves with fruit and lighter dishes beforehand. Not that saving room in their bellies was a problem, everybody knew a hobbit could easily eat more. Thankfully, this day however, the extra time that would’ve usually been used to prepare outfits and brush curly hair until it shone, was used to rush through undoing the damage that had been done during the course of the night. There hadn’t been just one hobbit out and about, that much was obvious. Lanterns had been ripped down and destroyed, beautiful tablecloths dirtied on the muddy ground caused by the spilling wine and Eglantine was going to have the head of whoever it was that had done _that_ to her favourite table linen, that much was certain! Even as Bofur desperately worked to cut and glue paper on new lanterns and Glóin returned with a cart of all the drink he had been able to find at the markets, it was a rush against time! They had run into the Old Took on the way and upon hearing what had happened the old hobbit had become so incensed that he had started spewing curses in old hobbitish, right there in the street! He had muttered something about ‘vile orc-hearted nasties’ and then caught and dragged poor Drogo, who had his own hands full of things he needed to get to the Party Tree in time, with him back towards Tuckborough. Everybody who was there, helping out in any way they could, blinked when the two hobbits returned… on a large cart strapped to two wheezing ponies. It seemed as if Gerontius Took had positively _emptied_ his wine cellar. For with him he had brought three large barrels of ale, two large barrels of red wine, two of white, another two large barrels of sweet mead… and two small barrels of whiskey. And that wasn’t the only cart coming down the road either.

 

Farmer Maggot had brought what he had, which is to say _a lot_. There were vegetables and fruit and so much flowers that the ruined ones could easily be replaced! Not to mention the huge cauldron! If the spit roasts and various other dishes weren’t enough, they could easily fill _all_ bellies with a delicious stew! Apparently, the three dwarrow that Primula had sent to him, had decided to take a slight detour around the butcher’s in Hobbiton, and from the looks of it, they had cleared him out. Bofur couldn’t help but laugh out loud!

“All we need now are tha’ decorations!” he cheered. With extra hands onboard, they could easily mend and replace what needed mending and replacing, they could put it all up, patch up the tents and fetch more furniture! Hamfast Gamgee had already come running with his wheelbarrow, two small barrels of moonshine there, and Bell had a dangerous glint in her eyes as she watched all the ingredients in Farmer Maggot’s cart. Oh yes, she would make a stew, and it would be a stew that the hobbits of Hobbiton would not soon forget either! Sending her poor husband back home for her spices, and all the herbs she needed, she nabbed herself the nearest dwarf.

“You, Master Dwarf, look like you have some skill with a sharp knife.” she smiled dangerously. “How fast can you chop that meat into bite sized pieces for me?”

The dwarf blinked at the legs of mutton at the back of the cart… along with the rabbits and chickens.

“Which meat?” he asked calmly, sliding daggers out from hidden sheaths. Without doubt they were sharper than anything they could put in his hands and he could always clean and resharpen them later.

 

-

 

“I am sorry about this,” Dori mumbled before grabbing a pale-yellow dress he had seen in Bilbo's closet earlier, and neatly ripping the bodice from the skirt. “But please do put this on, I will have to literally sew the dress on you and we have little time.” He and Nori had essentially _raided_ the old coot of a tailor, rushing in in the middle of a last fitting and throwing a purse of gold at the man before making off with the bolts he wanted. Granted, the coin had been worth a lot more than what they ran out with but there hadn’t been any time to stand there and haggle. Now they were back at Bag End, one brother cutting large swaths of fabric while the other had three different needles and threads between his lips. “Good enough,” Dori muttered while pleating and wrapping thick white cotton around Bilbo's waist, stitching it to the plain short shift and skirt she wore under the bodice she had been asked to put on.   _“Good enough my beard!”_ he growled, still appalled at the mere _thought_ of Bilbo getting married while wearing something even remotely deemed ‘good enough’. Not on Dori's watch! Oh no, he was _not_ going to let her do that! Dori, Son of Mori, was _not_ going to let his future queen wear something ‘good enough’ on her wedding… and he would certainly not do that to someone who he deemed a _friend_.

 

He apologised every time he accidentally pricked her with the needle and every time she told him not to. He barked orders to his brother for how much he needed of what, which needle, which thread, when, what to hold, how and where. When all the underlayers were finally in place, the two Ris started working on the ruching, pinning thick pale-yellow satin in place and sewing it in. Even as Dori worked on putting the dress together on Bilbo where she stood, Nori started hemming the thick fabric with delicate stitches, only ever a step behind.

“Master Nori,” Bilbo asked softly, looking down at the odd hairdo bobbing by her knees. “I did not know you were a tailor too.”

“’m na’.” came the distracted answer. Nori preferred not to think about that. He had been an apprentice under their father, and his brother, before he decided to change his Craft, and he was quite happy with what he had become thank you very much. And while he certainly was nowhere near Dori's skill, he could sew and darn well enough to not walk in tatters. Not that he needed to after the reclaiming of Erebor. He, much like his brothers, was one of the richest dwarves in the mountain now.

 

Once done with the satin, Dori moved on to the sleeves, silently grateful that hobbits loved their colours and there had been plenty of colourful fabric at the tailor’s studio. He had found sheer muslin of all things, right here in Hobbiton! How wonderful to find such exquisite fabric in such a small town! And he had nabbed it before the cranky old hobbit could get a word in edgewise about it. Now he carefully crafted balloon sleeves out of it, stitching it in place to the fine bodice Bilbo wore, having carefully ripped off the shift-sleeves earlier. Oh, she looked absolutely stunning!

When he glanced at her, and saw her smile a soft smile at his brother he had to see what she was looking at… only to damn near swallow the needle when he saw _Nori_ , sit there and embroider the most delicate of tiny flowers around the hem of the skirt. Hands and fingers skilled in many dark arts were confident and sure of themselves as they worked, making one tiny petal after another, and another, faster than Dori could’ve ever imagined of his brother. Swallowing hard, for the last time Dori had seen his younger sibling like this had been a _long_ time ago, he refocused on the sleeves. With a little bit of luck, they would make it! Maybe…

 

-

 

Fíli eyed the messy mop of sunny hair critically, seeing the nervousness in wide green eyes… but then nodded and hauled his son off the floor with a low chuckle. The boy graced him with pearls of laughter, both of them turning to the mirror to inspect their hard work. Fíli had taken a long proper bath earlier, and who would have known that there had to go so much effort into keeping a small child _in_ a bathtub while you tried washing both of their hair, let alone get the same child _out_ of the bathtub after? At that point Fíli swore there was more water on the floor than in the tub and that Adalgrim was secretly an eel, but he had succeeded in getting them both properly clean and he counted himself successful. Then it came down to getting them into their best finery, or at least Adal's best finery. Fíli, sadly had to make do with whatever he had brought from Erebor and seeing as he hadn’t exactly planned for a wedding, well… he had to settle for whole and clean.

With his son giggling and bouncing around on their beds, still in only a towel because he was too excited to actually be towelled dry, and under the watchful eye of both his father and the two guards who were doing what they could to look their best as well, Fíli had sat down to braid his hair. Rather than put all of his official braids in, he had decided to settle on his engagement-plait… and the one for fatherhood. He knew he'd have to wear them all when they eventually went to Erebor, and there it would be suitable and expected for him to wear all those symbols of who he was and what he had accomplished. Here however, there was no need for such things. Their wedding in the Shire was a modest affair, a simply joyous occasion to be shared with friends and family.

 

Had he known about the absolute chaos taking place by the Party Tree he might’ve changed his opinion slightly. As it were, he had no clue what was going on and thus he took it easy while tending to himself, only turning to Adalgrim when he was done with himself. The boy got into his best clothes easily enough, smiling toothy smiles at his da while nimble fingers easily buttoned his shirt and helped him with his suspenders. As for sitting still to get his hair brushed and braided… not so much. Fíli nearly ended up laughing hysterically while struggling with golden curls because suddenly he got a flashback of a much younger Kíli who had been just as impossible where grooming was concerned. Still was actually. The braid he'd managed to plait into Adal's hair was slightly lopsided but it was there and his foot hair was properly brushed and that was all that mattered. And with that done they were both ready to go to the Party Tree and get married.

 

Holding on to a small hand, and consequently being pulled along for it, Fíli and his guards made their way from the Green Dragon towards the Party Tree, smiling at the hobbits they met on their way. Fíli saw that something was up but no one had come running yet and thus he remained calm. Had something happened he was sure they would have notified him immediately… which is why he was surprised to see the rest of his company all tousled when they finally arrived. And the dwarrow weren’t the only ones. The smiles he got from Primula and Drogo, and the Gamgees too, were bordering on mental and it raised his awareness of his surroundings. Something was going on here. But as he looked around he could see nothing wrong. There was linen on the tables, flowers in pretty bouquets everywhere, fresh fruit on platters and in bowls, a whole long table was laden with food and over a large open fire there were already several spits slowly spinning to cook meat. Over yet another fire the biggest cauldron Fíli had ever seen bubbled with the beginnings of a lovely stew and there were pretty lanterns and ribbons hanging everywhere. He saw smiling hobbits and smiling dwarrow, all happy to see them, ready to celebrate… yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.

 

He had no time however to take a closer look or ask questions because then he saw his beloved come towards him, escorted by the Ris, and Fíli had never before dreamt of such beauty. The dress was a very pale yellow, stunning in its simplicity and the yellow roses in Bilbo's hair made the honeyed silk strands shimmer like fields of ripe rye under the midday sun. She held a lovely little bouquet in her hands, white gladiolus and campanula, tied with a white ribbon, and Fíli had no words to describe her. All he knew was that she was breath-taking and she was _his_.

 

Bilbo blushed beautifully when they finally made it up to him, both of them standing before the Old Took, with their little boy between them. She smiled sweetly when Dori and Nori pressed pecks to her cheeks then stepped back, both of them grinning widely. Though if one looked closer one would’ve seen how Dori was on the verge of crying already and though he would deny it, Nori's eyes were a little wetter than usual as well.

With his entire attention focused on his bride, Fíli pressed a delicate kiss to her knuckles, and together they turned to the Thain to have him start the ceremony.

 

-

 

If Fíli had thought that the supper back at Bag End after a hard day’s work had been impressive, that was _nothing_ compared to the party that kicked off the moment they were declared married and he got to kiss his wife so sweetly. There was music and dancing and laughing and cheering and more food than he had seen in _Erebor_ … which said quite something about the feast prepared for them. There were fauntlings running underfoot, there were young hobbits flirting, there were elderly hobbits chuckling and reminiscing about their own happy celebrations, there were _dwarrow_ dancing and singing along and betting on how many small pies one of the more _robust_ hobbits could eat before he gave up. Bofur, ever the cheerful dwarf, was more than delighted to play his flute and Fíli himself managed to get hold of a fiddle to join in for a song or two.

 

Tharkûn being Tharkûn had damn near managed to send the dwarrow scrambling for their arms when he decided to show up in a burst of fireworks that had the children cheering loudly for more, Adalgrim at the very front of it of course. The wizard had been graced with more than one filthy glare from the dwarves for that stunt but it seemed to matter little to him where he stood, laughing while indulging fauntlings with his magic tricks. Fíli though hadn’t missed how his darling hobbit had discreetly pulled the Grey Wanderer aside… only to tug none too gently on his beard, pulling him down to her level, and letting him know _exactly_ where he could stick his ideas if he had arrived with the intention of whisking Bilbo's brand-new husband off on any new adventures. Oh yes, she had heard how he had lead the fabled Company of thirteen dwarves on their Quest to Reclaim Erebor, only to leave them all willy-nilly whenever they least expected it and no, Bilbo would have none of it. Once she had confirmed that Gandalf was truly only there to celebrate, and the dwarrow silently took sick satisfaction in how he had rubbed his tender chin after the rather rude beard-tug, Bilbo graced him with a sweet smile and a small peck to his cheek and welcomed him warmly to join the festivities. Not that Fíli hadn’t pulled him aside a few moments later, to ask lowly if there was anything he needed to know, was there something happening back east? Tharkûn had only smiled at him, saying that there was nothing to worry about to his knowledge and Fíli had to accept that if the wizard said all was well, then it probably was. Hopefully. Rather than worrying, Fíli focused on his bride. Bilbo was a beacon of joy wherever she was and her tinkling laughter called to him like sirens lured sailors to their doom. He was drawn to her, smiling like a loon when he found her in the middle of a dance, her small partner laughing with her as their boy held on to her hands while standing on her feet through the steps. The loving smile he earned when he hauled Adal up on his shoulders and took his place, warmed Fíli's heart. And he'd have the rest of his life to see it aimed at him.

 

He danced more than he had before, he laughed, ate, drank, and sang more, and he kissed his beloved whenever he got the chance. Even as he whirled past her, leading Eglantine through a series of steps that he only got right because he was tipsy, he managed to catch her around the waist and plant a kiss on her lips, before twirling right off, much to the loud laugher of all their spectators. Fíli was _happy_ , he was _in love_ , he was _married_. There was nothing the Valar could throw at him that he couldn’t do because he now knew the truest meaning to happiness and he had found that meaning, right here in the Shire.

 

Even later, when many of the little ones were starting to nod off in whatever arms they had found to crawl up in, Adalgrim sound asleep in his mother’s lap despite the adults still celebrating all around them, Fíli watched Bilbo with something warm in his eyes. That woman, right there, was his. She had been made for him, as he had been made for her, and they had found each other again, through time and distance on Arda. Fíli would do _anything_ for her, anything she asked he would give. But Bilbo didn’t ask for anything, save for his love. And she had it, in spades.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Tharkûn?” he asked softly, merely glancing to the side when the older man sank down next to him, fiddling with his robes to find his pipe and light it.

“No, young Fíli,” came the soft answer. “I merely came to join you and share a quiet moment over a cherry.” Gandalf glanced down at the dwarf in turn, noting the dubiously raised eyebrow and the dry look in blue eyes. Fíli was still smoking his own pipe, but clearly he didn’t trust the wizard further than he could throw him.

Such distrustful creatures, the dwarrow.

 

Fíli eyed the other man drily… only to narrow his eyes at him after another moment of silence.

“You _knew_.”

“Knew what, Master Dwarf?” came the innocent question.

“You _knew_ I had found my One right before we set off for Erebor!”

“I was not entirely sure but yes, I did have an-… _inkling._ ” the wizard smiled cheekily. Across from them, at another table, Bilbo was rocking softly from side to side while talking to Primula and Bell about something that had all three women laughing lowly. Gandalf wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know what kind of subject could put such grins on their faces, and that’s saying something coming from a wizard.

“Did you know about the babe too?”

“How could I possibly know about that, young Fíli?”

“Because you are Tharkûn.” Fíli deadpanned. “You have an annoying habit of knowing _everything_.”

“Would you have turned back if you had known?”

And that was just the question, wasn’t it? Fíli didn’t know the answer to that. Bilbo was his One, and with a babe on the way he definitely should have been there to help and support her, defend her and provide for her. But he had also sworn to help his uncle reclaim Erebor, to go with him and fight a dragon, despite his mother crying desperate tears knowing she may not ever see any of them alive again.

Now, the choice probably wouldn’t have been that hard, Thorin would’ve probably _forced_ him to stay. Back then… Fíli didn’t know.

 

Instead of answering Fíli sighed, chewing absentmindedly on the pipe while watching those around him.

“I know you speak in tongues, and that it is hard to ever get a straight answer out of you, Tharkûn.” he mumbled after a while. “But please tell me honestly if you come bearing ill news from across the mountains. A day for joy and celebration it is, but if something has happened to my family I _need_ to know.”

Gandalf sighed then, watching the dancing and feasting around him with silent wonder. It never ceased to amaze him how the Shirelings could be such simple people, yet live and enjoy life to the fullest like they were.

“I come bearing nothing but good news, Young Heir,” he rumbled after a while. “Your uncle is getting stronger every day and the peace between the kingdoms of Erebor, Dale and Mirkwood remains ever there. Fear not, Prince Fíli, for your home is where you left it, safe and sound.”

“I thank you for that.” Fíli nodded, letting the tension in his shoulders ease.

Then Bilbo turned to him, as if she felt his gaze, and returned it with a soft smile. In the light of the lanterns and the fires, she was as spectacular as ever. There were roses on her cheeks, from laughing, dancing, feasting, and tendrils of silky curls had escaped the ribbons and flowers in her hair, giving her a halo of shimmer around her head. “ _Nungel._ ” Fíli murmured softly to himself, not noticing the humorous glance from the wizard. “Please excuse me, Tharkûn, for I have a wife to sweep off her feet and bring home.” the dwarf said as he got to his feet, pleased to note that Bilbo was excusing herself as well. “Thank you for your entertainment this evening, and for coming.” Fíli gave the older man a nod, and a careful little smile. “As unhappy about it as some of us may have been, especially what with your arrival being as dramatic as it were, I am happy you came to share our joy with us.” Offering the wizard a small respectful bow, and getting an equally respectful nod in return, Fíli turned his attention back to his hobbit. Having made his way through the still lively crowd towards her, Fíli was met with a soft smile as Bilbo rolled up on her toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips, careful not to wake the bundle in her arms up.

“Home?” she asked lowly, her eyes sparkling with life and love.

“Home.” Fíli agreed, earning a barely contained yelp when he suddenly bent down to pick her up, him carrying her and her carrying their son. He grinned at the glare it earned him, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he started walking, feeling as if he was soaring on clouds when she rested her head against his shoulder.

Behind them the partygoers cheered them on, hollering best wishes and encouragements for more raunchy celebrations to be continued once they returned to Bag End. Fíli didn’t even turn around, merely kept on walking.

 

Once back at home, and he didn’t put his wife down until they were well inside, Bilbo disappeared into Adal's room to put the fauntling to bed, leaving Fíli to head to the bedroom and light a fire in the fireplace to warm them. It was a warm high summer night but there would be a chill come early morn.

When Bilbo came in, not long after, she found him standing there, a hand on his hip and the other hiding his face… and the silly grin behind it. Blinking at him, she was just about to ask what was going on when green eyes turned to the bed… and widened, a blush rising to her cheeks.

Clearly, some _very_ well-meaning dwarrow had been in there sometime during the evening with the intention of-… helping them along in the consummation of their marriage.

There were flower petals _everywhere_ and on the thick soft duvet, invitingly turned down, rested clean towels, a little bouquet of roses and a tray with a bottle of wine, two glasses and some nibbles. There was also a vial of soothing oil.

 

Bilbo didn’t know about the note that had accompanied the setup but Fíli did and he had tossed it into the fire as soon as he had read it. Not that she would’ve been able to read it, it had been written in Khuzdûl after all, but with a mind as sharp as hers there would be no doubt about what their helpful ‘fairy god-dwarrow’ aimed for.

“Do I want to know?” Bilbo murmured a good while later, her cheeks and the tips of her pointy ears red with embarrassment.

“No, amrâlimê,” Fíli chuckled. “You do not. Now let us get out of these clothes, my darling, and get some rest.”

“You might need one of your blades for that.” Bilbo muttered, blushing even harder. “I am kind of-… sewn into the gown.”

Blue eyes blinked at her. Now that he looked closer, indeed there did not seem to be a way to get her out without ruining the lovely dress. It had him wondering though, why on earth would you make a wedding gown so complicated? Was it another of the Shirelings many different traditions? Before he could ask though, Bilbo shook her head, smiling as she stepped up to her brand-new husband, and gently pulled him down into a kiss by the stashebraids he wore. “Long story, love of mine, one we can save for some other time.”

Fíli didn’t push for answers he knew he'd get eventually. Instead he smiled, seeing those bewitching eyes turn a darker shade when a hidden blade slid out from its sheath, smiling a sharper smile when she simply lifted her arms to around his neck to kiss him, her trust in him blind and complete. He didn’t even nick her, not even once.

 

-

 

A couple of weeks later saw Bilbo wave Fíli and his Company safe travels as they rode out of Hobbiton on their way to Bree. Word had come of a group of dwarven merchants passing through on their way to the Ered Luin and Fíli knew that most likely, they had letters with them from home. Rather than have them take a long detour and lose days, he had decided to set out and meet them there. He wasn’t stupid enough to leave his One and Queen to be completely alone however, not after having quietly asked his men about what had happened before the wedding and the actions taken to correct it. As sorely tempted as he had been to teach the Sackville-Bagginses just _whom_ they had decided to target, and he certainly _had_ been tempted, he had decided against any form of retribution. Bilbo might’ve had something to do with that. Might have. The joy and celebration of their wedding day was not something they wanted to sully with vengeance for petty sabotage. The food which had been spoiled had been replaced, the decorations remade and the furniture mended.

Bilbo though hadn’t said anything about her wedding gown. As much as it broke her heart that Lobelia had been so cruel as to shred it, regardless of whether it had been done by someone else or her own hand, Bilbo didn’t want to bring attention to it. It was one thing to ruin paper lanterns and table linen and a bench or two, Fíli could overlook such things… but Bilbo's mother’s wedding gown? Not so much. He was a gentle creature with a warm and tender heart, Fíli of the Line of Durin, but there was cold dwarven steel underneath the surface and he was a skilled warrior for a reason.

 

Bilbo sighed where she stood, leaning against the curved doorjamb, watching her husband ride away. He would be back within a sevenday, most likely laden with gifts for his family, despite Bilbo having told him not to. However, she also knew that he wouldn’t care and go buy toys for his son anyway, and she would kiss him for making their boy happy. The soppy dwarf.

“Miss Bilbo?”

There had been some debate about what to call her after the wedding. Many from Fíli's Company had insisted on calling her according to her newly acquired station, ‘Your Highness’ and ‘Your Majesty’ but Bilbo had stubbornly refused to listen to it. Neither did she want to be called ‘Mrs Fíli’ or ‘Mrs Durin’, and since Fíli was no Baggins, ‘Mrs Baggins’ rang out wrong. And so ‘Miss’ remained, no matter how wrong it was, and while no one was happy about it it worked.

Humming slightly Bilbo turned to face the dwarf coming out of her kitchen. The blacksmiths remained in the Shire, earning themselves good coin on working the forge, but while they were off hammering metal, Fíli had left one of his men to stay at the smial and protect Bilbo. She silently wondered how fast he would get bored… and how many pastries she had to ply him with before she could ask him to help her sweep the chimneys.

 

-

 

Fíli smiled while reading the letters from his family. He hadn’t bothered to wait until he got back to the Prancing Pony, rather he had flopped down on a bale of hay right there at the market, his pony munching next to him while his men tended to errands of their own. Well, some of them. They never left their prince and heir entirely without protection.

Fíli had suspected his family would write soon enough, too curious and too impatient for news they were, Kíli in particular. Even now, in writing, a grown man and celebrated hero of Erebor, the younger prince was too young to bide his time for news, barely getting past greetings and pleasantries before he started asking questions. How was the Shire? Had Fíli found his One? Was she as pretty as Fíli remembered her? Had she waited for him? Of course she had! Was she a good cook? What did those odd hobbit holes look like on the inside? And Dís’ and Thorin's letters were more of the same, though they at least took the time to tell him of how things were going back home first, and their curious inquiries were a lot less bluntly worded than Kíli's.

Boy did Fíli have news for them.

But he wasn’t going to rush his letters back. The travelling merchants would return on their way east, he would send letters with them then. He'd need the time to figure out how to formulates his replies, how did you casually inform your closest family of marriage and childbirth? Fíli mentally cringed. His mother would probably throw a fit loud enough to be heard all the way over in the Iron Hills, then get on the next pony to the Shire. Lord Dáin would send warriors, fearing another bloody dragon.

 

Still thinking about how to best put these new developments into words, preferably _without_ the effect of having a platoon of dwarrow arrive on their doorstop, his mother at the helm, Fíli looked up and around. The market was lively, dwarves, hobbits and Men alike plying their trades, purchasing and selling goods, all busy with their own lives. And that’s when he spotted something at a stall, something glimmering in the sun.

Being a dwarf, naturally he was compelled to investigate… and what he found made him grin. A lovely comb of bronze with delicate flowers of aquamarine and silver. The craftsmanship behind the piece was quite good and he knew his Bilbo would love it, after she had admonished him for getting her anything. And excellent gift for his beloved… and speaking of love, he had a boy to spoil rotten.

 

-

 

It hadn’t taken that many pastries before Bilbo could kindly convince her lone bodyguard to sweep her chimneys. The fact that one of the flues had covered him in soot when he stuck a poker up there to unstuck the damper had probably helped. Bilbo herself had struggled not to laugh out loud, biting her lip not to smile, when the warrior stormed out of the smial, his magnificent beard and moustache bristling with soot, and cursing like the most spiteful sailor, even as she covered innocent ears from hearing the tirade. He had returned less than an hour later, laden with what he needed, and taken to the task with such dedication and ferociousness that Bilbo had silently wondered whether the poor man had some boredom and aggression to take out or not. Well, regardless of which it was, she now had squeaky clean chimneys, and fireplaces, and a dwarf who had spent hours in the bath to get clean. She hadn’t said a word when he returned the tools, she hadn’t said a peep when he stomped back, all sweaty and dirty, looking like a miner from the deepest pits of Moria, and she hadn’t opened her mouth when she heard him close the door to the bathroom, slightly harder than he used to, and continued cursing even as he got into the hot water she had prepared for him. It had been a bit of a struggle though. She would make a lovely supper to make up for the poor thing’s bad day, that should cheer him up.

 

As she stood there on all fours in her parlour, cleaning up what little mess that was left after the chimney sweeping, pointed ears picked up a sound from the outside… a sound a mother was well accustomed to, yet always feared. The sound of her child crying. Without a second thought she let go of the scouring brush, got to her feet and rushed outside, right in time to catch Adalgrim as he came running, crying loudly. The boy was dirty, and some of his clothes torn… and he had bruises and scrapes all over, a nasty cut high on his forehead, right below his hairline. The blood had trickled down his temple, past a swelling that would turn into a rather spectacular black eye, down his cheek to drip on his grimy shirt. The way he cried made her heart hurt, Bilbo holding on to her little boy as hard as he held on to her, rocking him back and forth in a valiant attempt to comfort his distress where they sat on her front step. Between her fingers hung the remnants of a tousled braid, the bead ripped off sometime during his struggle.

 

Razor-sharp green eyes snapped up when she heard the sound of feet, her gaze not softening in the slightest when she saw Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin come down over the hill, looking as messy as Adal, who was sniffling into his mother’s arms, not interested in going anywhere.

“What happened?” she demanded before any of them could say a word.

“Lotho and his friends attacked him.” Frodo said lowly. “While we were down by the creek.” The boy hesitantly stepped up to her, holding out his hand… where a simple yet beautiful wooden bead rested. “We took it back.” he mumbled. “We know it means a lot to Adal so we ganged up on Lotho and took it back for him.”

Green eyes stared at it for a moment, unable to take in what the child was saying… then she caught him around the neck and pulled him in to hold him hard, this precious little boy who defended her son as fiercely as she did herself.

“Thank you, Frodo Baggins.” she whispered on a low sob. “Thank you. Come here you.” Bilbo called to the other boys, who stood there awkwardly watching, though there was hope in their eyes… and a smidge of triumph and rebellion in Pippin’s. Most likely, the little tyke had made damn sure to get in a few good hits on the older boy.

Hesitantly they came up to her, and she held them all as much as she was able without letting go of Adal, and she had a good long cry.

 

Much later, after she had sent the boys home, after she had bathed her little darling son and tended to his wounds, after she had kissed his hurts and comforted him with a nice sweet custard bun, and he fell asleep in her arms in front of the fireplace, Bilbo finally met three furious gazes.

“Do not tell Fíli.” she said softly, lowly as not to wake the fauntling up.

“But, Miss Bilbo, this is-”

“Do not tell Fíli.” she repeated herself. “That is an _order_.” The cold steel in jade green eyes silenced them as much as the chill in her voice. “I shall tell him upon his return.” she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to Adal's forehead when he boy nuzzled closer. After washing and combing the unruly curls, she had put the braid back in, and with it the bead. It is where it belonged, the sign of Adalgrim's father and who they both were. “Until he returns home from Bree, please do not cause a fuss. It is the last thing we need.”

Effectively gagged and hogtied, the dwarves could do naught more but to nod their heads and accept the situation.

 

-

 

Bilbo sat on the little bench by her gate, silently watching the comings and goings of her neighbours. She had brought a book with her to read but there hadn’t been much reading to be had. Adalgrim was in her arms, snuggled up as close as he could get, his toy dragon in hand. Neither of them had said much in the days since he had come home crying and there hadn’t been any need for words. He wanted, _needed_ , to feel safe in his mother’s arms, and Bilbo would rather hold him until her arms went numb and fell off than to push him away for the sake of reading or mere chores. Further up on the hill sat their dwarven warrior, ever vigilant since the attack. Outside of the smial, he hadn’t let them out of his sight and where they went he followed. Bilbo would have gone to the markets, she needed to refill her pantries, but there was no way Adal would come with her now, not without Fíli there, and she didn’t much feel like leaving him at home either when he still was so distressed and easily scared. The other dwarves at her disposal would have stopped their work at the forge in an instant if she hadn’t sternly told them that they did in fact have a lot of work to do, many of them commissioned and already paid for. They hadn’t been happy about that and only through making her promise not to go anywhere without protection had they agreed to return to their work. Bilbo hadn’t been that hard to convince, for Adal's sake.

 

How heart-breaking wasn’t it, that a place as peaceful and beautiful as the Shire, could hold such dark hearts, she thought where she sat. It was a wonderful day out. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, there were frogs jumping and splashing down by the pond, there were hobbits out and about… but where she had seen only neighbours before, she now saw potential danger. Never before had she thought that she would watch those around her with the wary eye of prey, rather than a mere friendly neighbour. And yet here she was, offering nothing but silent nods to the friendly greetings rather than a smile and a ‘good morning’ as was proper.

 

After what had happened before her wedding, how could she possibly trust in her own people again? Small pranks were common in the Shire, but they were never malicious, they never caused harm. Would she constantly have to worry about Adalgrim's safety whenever he left home now? Would the boy even be able to leave the smial without constantly being surrounded by lifeguards? What kind of life was it to have for a small child who feared the outdoors? His own neighbours? Would she become a target herself? If a child was fair play, what was there to say that she wasn’t in danger as well? After ruined decorations, furniture and wedding gowns, would she have to watch out for poison in her food? In her drink? She knew Lobelia hadn’t caused all that damage alone, and there were those in Hobbiton who agreed with her and quite disliked Bilbo and her kin. Who else had held those shears?

 

Bilbo drew a deep breath as she finally spotted her husband and his Company come up the road. She was the adult and it was up to her to make the hard decisions, as much as it broke her heart to have to make them in the first place. Getting to her feet, still with their boy in her arms, she walked up to the little gate and spoke before Fíli could as much as ask why she looked so solemn and tired. He frowned slightly, the smile on his face sliding off as confusion took its place at the sight of their son with bandages around his head.

“We will come with you.” Bilbo spoke softly, meeting those beautiful cerulean eyes. “To Erebor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAAAAN, that was like pulling out teeth! D8 Took me FOREVER to get this chapter done!  
> THANK YOU all so much for all the lovely comments that helped me through this writer’s block! It was literally only those that kept me going this time ;__;  
> I hope to start on the next chapter soon! ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥


	7. Chapter 7

To say that Fíli was furious, would be a massive understatement. He was positively _livid_ to learn of the attack on his son and heir. It was one thing to aim for their wedding, for material things which could be, and had been, replaced. Had Bilbo not _literally_ stood in his way to stop him, Fíli, Son of _Dís_ , probably would’ve stormed off and caused carnage in the Kindly West. As it were, they were preparing to leave the Shire.

 

Having made the decision to leave, for the sake of Adalgrim, Bilbo set to the task of getting her affairs in order immediately. If they were to get across the Misty Mountains _before_ the passes snowed over they had to leave as soon as possible. The blacksmiths finished the commissions they had started but took no more, busy with checking weapons and armour before their impeding journey back. With the help of Glóin, Bilbo sold off what she couldn’t or didn’t want to bring along, and he made sure she fetched a good price on every item. While she and Fíli worked hard, putting her things in crates, Bofur accompanied Adalgrim to the Gamgees where the boy felt safe enough without his parents there to protect him. Frodo, Merry and Pippin came over every day to play, knowing that once Adalgrim left for the east, they may not get to see him again. Most of the time the children played like before, having a lovely time together, but there was an underlaying sadness there. They knew he would leave with his parents for a realm far away, and as young as they were, they also knew _why_ Bilbo had chosen to leave. Adalgrim knew it too, in a way, but he never said anything about it, choosing to enjoy the time they had left.

 

Bell and Hamfast watched the children play with something sad in their eyes. The innocence that belonged to childhood had been shattered so easily, and what for? For a reputation? For a name… an old grudge? It wasn’t just Adal who had changed that day, Sam, Frodo, Merry and Pippin had changed too. Children didn’t fight in the Shire, it just didn’t happen, because the adults didn’t fight. What had happened had effects that spread like ripples on water. But then again, that’s what evil did.

 

-

 

Fíli wasn’t happy about what he was about to do but knew that it had to be done all the same. He drew a deep breath… and knocked on the door. Behind him, two of his guards stood at attention, listening to the sound of feet against tile before the door opened.

Eyes blinked at them… then Gerontius smiled happily.

“Fíli, my boy!” he beamed. “I did not expect a visit, by all means, child, come in!”

“I have not come as the husband of your granddaughter, Lord Thain of the Shire.” Fíli replied lowly, bowing respectfully before the other man. “I have come as Prince and Heir Apparent of the Throne of Erebor.”

The Old Took frowned slightly when he finally noted the armour the Dwarven Prince wore, and the twin swords. Gerontius Took was no fool and hadn’t become Thain by being one. This was no casual visit from his newly acquired grandson-in-law, no, this was an official visit from one ruler to another. He nodded, offering a respectful bow of his own.

“Come in, Prince Fíli of Erebor.” he murmured, taking a step aside. “Be welcome.”

 

-

 

Adalgrim slept between his parents almost every night, night terrors disturbing his sleep after the attack. Lotho hadn’t acted on his mother’s orders but rather on a whim of his own, deciding to take out his frustration and anger, and quite possibly some fear, on the only person he could handle, a boy smaller than himself. He hadn’t expected Frodo to be as protective of his cousin as he was of course, and he certainly hadn’t expected Sam and Merry and Pippin to join in as fiercely as they had, and the boys sure had given Lotho and his friends a good walloping. But the damage had been done. Adal had been pushed down and beaten, a rock had hit him in the head and hair had been ripped from his scalp as a furious Lotho yanked the braid and bead in sunny curls. No wonder he had nightmares and slept safely only between his parents, the two people he loved and trusted the most, tightly curled around him.

 

Fíli watched his family in silence where they lay safely protected in his arms. Adal was snuggled tightly to his mother, Bilbo almost wrapped around the boy, and Fíli covered him where she couldn’t reach. So close he could feel their breaths he lay, a hand absentmindedly playing with a tress of silken honey curls as his mind kept whirring with thoughts. They were going to Erebor, his One and his son. Bilbo was uprooting herself and their child for the safety the Lonely Mountain could offer, for she had asked him about it one late evening after his Company had excused themselves for the night. Would they be safe in Erebor? Her being a hobbit and Adalgrim coming from _both_ a hobbit and a dwarf, would they be safe from narrowminded prejudices? Did dwarves even like children or would they merely be accepted there? Fíli had gently and patiently told her how dwarrow _adored_ children, how precious all little ones were to his people. And no one would even consider harming either of them for they were _his_ , the wife and son of _Fíli_ , and she would become their queen one day. Hadn’t she seen how enamoured all his guards were with Adal and the rest of the fauntlings they had met? Wasn’t Bofur a perfect example of _just_ how much dwarves loved children?

His soft words had soothed her, but he had seen the worry in her eyes and the tension in her shoulders. Bilbo might’ve made the lifechanging decision to leave the only place she had ever called home, but she was also scared for she knew not what waited for them across the mountains. She was perfectly aware of the dangers out there, she had seen the orcs on their wargs, riding their beasts into the cold-crippled Shire and rendering death and chaos as they did so. She had seen death and she didn’t fear it, but she _did_ fear for their son’s safety and wellbeing.

 

That didn’t change that fact that Fíli was _angry_ , he was so _angry_ that someone had _dared_ to hurt his family, even if it had been a mere brat from a hateful wench of a woman. Had it been up to Fíli, he would’ve demanded _dwarven_ justice for the offense, see what the Shirelings would think of that! But he had decided against it, knowing it would cause a political mess in its wake. Instead he had gone to the Thain and asked for suitable retribution for the attack on the Line of Durin. Bilbo belonged to the royal family now, Adalgrim was Fíli's _heir_ , what had been done had been aimed straight at the throne of Erebor, whether the Sackville-Bagginses realised it or not. And Gerontius had understood perfectly. The Old Took had been grateful for Fíli's discretion and promised he would punish the wrongdoers, _all_ of them, accordingly. And Fíli knew he would, for Gerontius Took was a wise hobbit, shrewd when he wanted to be, and he _loved_ his granddaughter with all his heart.

 

Sighing softly, pressing a kiss to Adal's messy curls when he whined a little, Fíli tightened his grip on his beloved. He blinked when green eyes fluttered open to look at him.

“Why are you awake, amrâlimê?” he asked softly. “You need to rest if we are to continue packing tomorrow.”

“So do you, my love.” came the low answer. The sudden smile was unexpected. “I know you will protect us on this journey, my Dwarven Prince, I do not doubt that for a bit. And I always knew we would go to Erebor eventually, we will just do it sooner than planned. It is an adventure for us, but one we are eager to go on so do not think you are ripping us from these rolling green hills. We are going because we want to… and because it is time.”

He couldn’t but stare at her in wonder. While Fíli had fretted she had simply moved on to practical thinking and excitement. Bilbo Baggins was _fearless_. Ignoring the resulting whine, Fíli leaned in to kiss her hard, his grip tightening on the most important people in his life. The laughter that escaped him held love… and relief.

 

-

 

Leaving Bag End would be one of the hardest things Bilbo had ever done in her life. She had been born and raised in the smial Bungo Baggins singlehandedly built for his beloved Belladonna. She had lost her father and her mother in there, she had birthed Adalgrim and been reunited with Fíli there too. She had lived in Bag End all her life and in a way, she had expected to die in there. But the Green Lady had other plans for Bilbo Baggins. Greater plans than a mere existence in the Shire… and Bilbo couldn’t wait to start. As much as she would miss Bag End she longed to see Erebor, the realm of dwarves, the kingdom her husband had ruled and would rule again. What Fíli had told her about the magnificent city, the wonders and beauty, she wanted to see it with her own eyes. She wanted Adalgrim to experience and learn more than what the Shire could offer.

However, she wasn’t going to just leave Bag End all willy-nilly. Not when she knew how greedy her relatives were, those who had been too _respectable_ to be seen or associated with her once word of her pregnancy got out. And she would rather turn Bag End to rubble and salt the ground than to ever see it in the hands of the Sackvilles, much less Lobelia who would never get her grubby little hands on Bilbo's home. Not ever. Which had lead Bilbo to make a big decision.

 

It was with an aching heart but with a smiling face that she held out the deed to Bag End… to Hamfast Gamgee.

“Bag End was built to be filled with love and children.” she smiled when neither Hamfast nor Bell took the document, merely stared at her slightly bug-eyed. “And while I know Primula would have loved to move in, Drogo built _their_ smial for her and hence it would have felt wrong to gift them my home.” Bilbo's smile softened. “I want my beloved Bag End to go to _good_ people and you have stood by me for so long. You were there for me when my mother passed away, when I was alone and after I my had son, despite all the nasty rumours and gossip… and you cannot look me in the eye and tell me that your own smial is not too small for your family, Hamfast.” She held out the deed again, and made the flabbergasted gardener take it. “You have _earned_ this, Master Gamgee, please accept it for all the kindness you and yours have shown me.”

“Mrs Baggins, we cannot possibly-” Bell began but was unceremoniously cut off.

“Yes, you _can_ and you _will_ accept this, Bell Gamgee.” Bilbo's green eyes sparkled. “Accept it and love it as much as I do, that is all I ask.”

“After all these years you should know that my dear cousin is an ever-stubborn woman and she always gets what she wants.” Primula smiled, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “You might as well accept it, she will never leave unless you do.”

“We will care for Bag End until your return, Mrs Baggins.” Hamfast straightened his back, stubbornly refusing to let his bottom lip quiver. “That I promise you, the Gamgees will _always_ be waiting for you.”

It was as good as she’d get and Bilbo knew it.

 

They all blinked when Adalgrim came up to them, his arms full of toys… including a detailed toy dragon.

“Fo’ F’odo.” he said determinedly. He hesitated slightly over the dragon but after a tiny silent struggle with himself he finally handed it over, something stubborn in green eyes. “P’esent fo’ being my f’iend.”

“No.” Frodo shook his head, just as stubborn as the other boy, his hands behind his back. His blue eyes were mulishly focused on his feet rather than the gift or the hands offering it. “They are yours, Master Bofur made them for you.”

“And if I a’thk him ni’thly, maybe he will make mo’e.” Adalgrim took a step closer, pressing the toy into Frodo's chest, and once the boy took it, he turned to Sam. He held out the dwarven warriors. “Fo’ ‘tham. Fo’ being my f’iend too.”

 

Anybody could see that little Sam dearly wanted to accept the gift, but he shook his head, as stubborn as his father. Much like Frodo, he hid hands behind his back, possibly because they were itching for the toys.

“Sam?” Bilbo asked gently, squatting down on her toes to meet the young boy’s eyes. Only sheer will kept those tears from falling. He pouted miserably when he finally met her gaze. “Will you not accept Adal's gift? You mean so much to him, he really does want you to have the toys he loves the most, for he loves you too. Just like he loves Frodo and Merry and Pippin.”

“If I take it, Master Adalgrim will leave, so I will not take it.”

Ignoring the sobs from Frodo, and Bell, Bilbo pulled the young boy into her arms and held him hard. This wonderful little boy who had been such a loyal little companion to her son desperately wished for his friend to stay, and she knew just from looking that Sam loved Adalgrim just as much as Adalgrim loved Sam. Such was the purity of childhood.

“We have to leave, Master Gamgee.” she mumbled into the boy’s hair, sighing when he finally broke down in sobs in her arms. “We have a new home waiting for us across the Misty Mountains and we need to get there before the snows fall, so come now, take the gift and be happy for it.”

 

“Yes, Mrs Bilbo.” Sam sniffled, turning to hug Adal when the fauntling came up to him. A moment later Frodo joined in and the three boys held each other hard while mumbling amongst each other. Letting them be for now, Bilbo instead turned to her cousin, but before she could say a single word Primula beat her to it.

“You better invite me to the wedding in Erebor, cousin.” Primula smiled through the tears. “We will be there, I promise you that, we will travel to that mountain of yours and celebrate you once more.” Drogo seemed to pale a bit at the thought of traveling so far but both women knew he'd come along as sure as the sun rose every morning, for Drogo was no more willing to leave his beloved than Fíli was.

“Of course,” Bilbo promised easily enough. “As soon as I know when, I shall send out an invitation.”

They all hugged long and hard but then the time to leave finally came and Bilbo gently untangled her boy from his friends, and lifted him up on the carriage, offering her husband a grateful smile when he lifted her up a moment later. Fíli swung himself into the saddle of his pony and after a curt bow to the hobbits on the ground, he and his Company set out for Erebor. With two full wagons and a small child, they had no time to lose.

 

-

 

Fíli wasn’t impressed at all. Nope, not one bit. Last time his Company had decided to make camp at this particular ruin, Fíli had damn near ended up in a pot. Not that that had stopped his beloved wife and son from wanting to see the stone remains of the trolls, no, not at all. In fact, they seemed quite excited about it… which wasn’t helped by the fact that half Fíli's Company, the half that _hadn’t_ been there the first time around, wanted to see them too. And since they were close by why not make camp in the same place, correct? Dori, Nori and Bofur who had been strapped to a spit over an open fire weren’t any more into the idea than Glóin and Fíli were. But they were all ignored of course. Calmly assuming that her husband would keep her safe, and what choice did he have in the matter, Bilbo hauled up her son on her hip and disappeared in the bushes, Fíli hurrying after only a second later. Much to Fíli's dismay, neither Bilbo nor Adalgrim had stayed nervous of the great world for long after they had left Bree behind. They had been wary the first few days, twitching and flinching at every sound from the wilderness around them, huddling close together to the prince when first they heard the distant howl of wolves. The Rangers did a great job of keeping the Shire safe from dangers but as the two hobbits had soon discovered, they had left the Shire now.

 

Then they had started to enjoy the journey. They looked upon the landscape with wonder, awe in their eyes when soft rolling hills gave way for the sharp ridges of mountains in the far distance. And little Adalgrim, who had been so shy and scared when they left the Shire, suddenly found a burst of confidence. More often than not he chose to ride with his father, the boy positively pelting the dwarf with questions about what he saw, what they passed and what he smelled. He wanted to know _everything_ about the Misty Mountains and what lay beyond, and Erebor, and would they meet Beorn? He hoped they would! His delighted voice was silent only when he ate or napped. And barely even then.

 

Bilbo herself spent most of her time on the wagon, preferring to sit on a slightly more secure means of transportation than a pony which could spook when you least expected it. Often, she was accompanied by either Ri or Bofur, making light conversation as they travelled through the landscape. The rough life of travel didn’t seem to bother her much at all. The late summer was still warm and she enjoyed sleeping under the stars with her companions and family. She even took watch to let the dwarves rest, for they were all prepared for ambush on the road, weapons always at the ready. Even as they moved through the brushes towards where the petrified trolls stood, Fíli heard Glóin mutter low curses in Khuzdûl, and he was prone to agree. None of the original Company members were all that happy to return to where they had been put in bags or stripped to their unders and tied to a spit. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Fíli was happy _Dwalin_ wasn’t with them, for the warrior would most likely have butted heads with Bilbo on the matter of going back to Trollshaw… and lost.

 

Either way, they went back to the same little glade, found the remains of _Tom, Bert_ and _William_ , and proceeded to take in the sight that was three trolls turned stone. Fíli unwillingly shuddered. A glance at Bofur told him he wasn’t the only one. Nori being Nori of course, decided to investigate the cave where they had found Orcrist, and Adalgrim being Adalgrim, _of course_ , shot after him faster than Bilbo could catch him… or Nori for that matter when the fauntling disappeared down the hole causing the Spymaster to _literally_ dive down after him. A few tense moments later the tinkling sound of a child’s laughter echoed out at them.

Fíli watched the mouth of the cave with a touch of desperate horror in his eyes.

“Just like Kíli.” he pressed out. “He is just like Kíli! We will have to put him on a _leash_!”

 

Bilbo just blinked where she stood, staring comically to where more of the guards hurried into the cave to make sure the princeling and the Spymaster were safe. She blinked again when another bout of pearling laughter reached her. And suddenly, she started laughing too. Ignoring her stupefied husband, she accepted Bofur's hand as he helper her down into the cave to see for herself how Nori struggled to keep curious little fingers away from the twinkling treasure, and any hidden blades within that might harm them. The fauntling was positively vibrating with energy and joy, so eager to explore the treasure that the Ri wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t suddenly spouted additional limbs in his effort to get down and to it. Bilbo couldn’t but laugh harder, despite the remaining whiff of troll still clinging to the inside. Fíli groaned out loud.

“I have created a monster.” he muttered.

When Bofur cheerfully corrected him that _technically_ he had created two, Fíli merely offered an offensive gesture in return.

 

-

 

Now, Fíli was a dwarf. As such he was naturally stubborn. As a _Durin_ on top of being a dwarf, Fíli could be downright obstinate on occasion. However, he was also his uncle’s nephew and he knew that it was for the best that they go to Rivendell for rest and provisions before trying to cross the mountains. As much as he didn’t want to, it was what was best for his Company, and more importantly, his family. Never mind how excited _Bilbo_ got at the mere thought of seeing _elves_. It was enough to make his beard curl. It didn’t help that by going through Rivendell they might, with a little bit of luck, get help getting through the passes before they snowed over. Now that they weren’t relying on secrecy, the dwarrow could take the roads more travelled and stay at inns whenever the opportunity arose, which had saved them a lot of time. Still, it had taken them close to a month to get to the Last Homely House with the two wagons, not counting the few days they had lost having to fix one of the wheels after a small group of orcs had attacked them.

Fíli had promised Nori that the Spymaster was going to pay, _dearly_ , for handing his wife that letter opener of a blade and told her that she might as well learn how to wield it. Especially since Bilbo clearly hadn’t thought of that herself. She had agreed however, after some thinking, which had put Fíli in the hot seat because who else was going to teach Bilbo Baggins how to wield a sword if not Fíli, Hero and Warrior of Erebor? And wielder of two?

Yeah, the Ri was going to pay for putting that idea in her head, make no mistake about it. Fíli had accepted that his son would pick a weapon of his own eventually, preferably swords, a skill a father could teach his son, or daughter, but he hadn’t expected to have to start quite so soon. Had it been up to _Fíli_ , Adalgrim would remain a _child_ for a lot longer, not start the gruesome training that shaped warriors, at the tender age of three.

Nori knew he was shit-creeked for that stunt.

 

_“Mae govannen_ , Mrs Baggins!” Lord Elrond greeted them upon their arrival at Rivendell. Smiling brightly, the Lord of the Last Homely House swept down the stairs to greet their convoy as soon as they entered the elven city. He didn’t seem surprised at all when Adalgrim weaselled his way out of Bofur’s stubborn grip, climbed down off the wagon faster than anyone could’ve imagined, and positively flew at the regal elf to greet and explore. Lord Elrond being a father himself, was positively delighted by the gusto shown in the little one, ignoring the glares from the dwarrow around him.

“Lord Elrond,” Bilbo smiled softly, once Nori had helped her down. “It is such an honour to finally meet you! I have heard so many stories!”

“Your mother was a joy and we miss her dearly.” the elven lord nodded at the small hobbit before him, holding small hands away from his hair and face with the elegant grace of someone who has done it many times before. He turned to Fíli and offered him a respectful nod of the head. “Well met, Prince Fíli of Erebor.” he greeted. “I hope your journey have thus been uneventful.”

 

Fíli didn’t know why the prat even bothered asking when he knew the answer to that perfectly well already. Fíli hadn’t actually seen or heard the elven soldiers but he knew they had been there all the same, ever since his Company set foot in their realm, silently _escorting_ them towards Rivendell. It made his skin crawl. Instead he nodded his head just as respectfully, offering the barest hint of a smile in return. He hadn’t been trained to become Heir for nothing after all.

“Nothing that is worth sharing over ale, I assure you, Lord Elrond.” he replied calmly. “I apologise for us arriving like this, without prior notice, but I was hoping we would be allowed to rest and resupply before we continue our journey?”

“Of course, I shall have Lindir see to it. He will have rooms prepared for you and your companions.” Elrond turned a little smile in the direction of the child giggling by his knees, busy playing hide and seek with the elf’s robes. “I assume you are hungry?”

 

-

 

Considering the difference between their meal now and the meal they'd been served last time Fíli had visited Rivendell, the dwarven prince could only come to the conclusion that the Lord of the Last Homely House East of the Sea had enjoyed himself a good laugh at the expense of Thorin's Company. While there were still a lot of green served, there was a lot more meat on the platters this time around. The joke was on Elrond though, because after having stayed with Bilbo for so long and having enjoyed _her_ cooking, none of the dwarves said anything about the different salads served, they merely helped themselves to full plates. The fact that Bilbo might give them the evil eye if they insulted the elven lord might also have something to do with it. No one wanted Bilbo to get cross with them.

However, that wasn’t what was currently on Fíli's mind. He was more concerned with where his son was. Once he had eaten, Adalgrim had been swept away by a fair elven maiden and they had yet to return. Bilbo on the other hand, who had been slightly overprotective of her boy due to all the drama back in the Shire, didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. She was enjoying conversation with her host, not paying any attention to her husband at all.

 

“Pardon for interrupting you, but where is Adalgrim?” Fíli butted in. “He has yet to be returned to us.”

“Do not worry about your son, Master Fíli.” Lord Elrond smiled casually at him. “He is safe from harm I assure you, he is merely playing with my children.”

That certainly came as news to Fíli, he hadn’t known the elf had children but then again… the tree shaggers must come from _somewhere_ , didn’t they? He doubted they sprouted like weeds though it wouldn’t have surprised him much if they did.

 

And as if on cue, a blond little tot came rushing from out of nowhere to climb his father’s lap like a little monkey. A monkey which had clearly gotten a bath and had his hair brushed properly… and braided. In the style of elves. Fíli gnashed his teeth not to comment on the insult that was putting elven braids in a dwarven prince’s hair. Even if Adalgrim was half-hobbit.

“Da, will you go peepee in th’e foun’thain again?”

While one pair of green eyes watched him with imploring curiosity, another pair turned to him with such a carefully blank expression that Fíli found himself sitting stock still, his back ramrod straight in his seat. He wasn’t the only dwarf there who suddenly couldn’t face the hobbit lass of their traveling company. When he finally turned to look at his beloved, ignoring the barely hidden shit eating grin on Lord Elrond's features, the prince damn near broke into a cold sweat. Bilbo looked like she wanted to _strangle_ him with his own stashebraids.

“I am sorry, I must have misheard.” she smiled sweetly, causing more than one hand to twitch. “You did _what_ now?”

“Uhm…”

“Clearly, there are details to your wonderful adventure that you forgot to tell me, my love.”

“In my defence, it was _not_ my idea!”

Wrong answer.

 

-

 

“Who would have thought elven maidens would fall so completely in love with a little Shireling?” Bilbo mused as they returned to their room later that evening. “And for a little Shireling to fall so completely in love with Lord Elrond's boys? I can only imagine the mischief they will get up to together.” She glanced at her husband, noticing the sullen expression on his face. “I am certain they will return him to us exhausted but happy, with his belly full of sweets and lots of stories of mischief to tell.” Fíli hadn’t been anywhere near as excited about the elves whisking his son away for the night as his son had been about being whisked away by elves. Adalgrim had been positively beaming when he came running, a small hand holding on tightly to Arwen’s larger one, with Elladan and Elrohir hot on their heels. The three elves had looked as excited about the idea of Adalgrim sleeping in their quarters that night as Adal had and if _that_ hadn’t raised a few bushy eyebrows nothing would. However, before Fíli could say anything about it, Bilbo had stepped in and told them to have fun. The quartet had disappeared almost immediately after, the sound of their laughter echoing down the halls, while the Prince of Dwarves stood there rather _un_ happy about the whole arrangement.

 

Before Fíli could voice his displeasure about not knowing where his only son and heir was though, he found himself gently pressed up against the door and a pair of soft lips pressed to his. Green eyes met blue and locked them as Bilbo pressed another soft kiss to his lips… finally getting a response.

 

With the thoughts of dwarflings and elves fading from his mind, Fíli returned the soft kisses, rough hands coming up to angle her head and deepen the kisses. Her ability to completely turn his brain into mush was worrying, or at least should be, but right now he couldn’t be half arsed to care a lick about it. He loved her with everything that he was and, on the road, there had been very little opportunity to hold or be held in return. He _ached_ for more of her, of his One, and now she had been cunning enough to distract their son with Fair Folk while they tended to each other. Oh, how Fíli loved her. For the life of him he couldn’t remember what life had felt like without her in it, without her heartbeat right behind his.

 

Fíli couldn’t help the gasp when nimble fingers easily got through his many layers to find him and wrap around him in one languorous stroke. He grew hard in her hand with a few masterly pulls.

“Amrâlimê…” he breathed into her mouth, his eyes closing of their own volition.

“Go on, my love.” Bilbo murmured against a sensitive ear, her hand never stopping her motions. “Let me hear your pleasure.”

“I want more than your hand…” Fíli murmured right back, letting the softest of moans out. “I want you, my Bilbo, my One, please…”

She hadn’t said anything and he was already reaching for the lacing at the back of her dress, slowly yet gracefully undoing knots and ties. He wanted her naked, wanted to worship her like only he could, hear her song of pleasure sung only for him to hear.

 

Bilbo didn’t bother answering, instead she took a step back, silently pleased when he immediately took a step forward after her, and another, and another, until her knees hit the bed behind her and he continued when she stopped, forcing her up on the soft covers. Even as they forgot the rest of the world, of all troubles that had lead them onto this long journey to the East, slowly and gently divesting each other of layers to get to skin, Fíli let his voice fill her mind, whispering and mumbling how breathtakingly beautiful she was, how soft her skin was to the touch, how wonderful she smelled, how he never failed to feel like he had been given the most precious of treasures in her, how he would do anything for her, anything she asked, he was hers and only hers. Bilbo however, had other plans in mind than merely being catered to. She wanted to love _him_ , to serve _him_ , to make Fíli relax and let down his guard, a mighty task in this realm of elves.

 

So when he least expected it, she flipped him on his back, straddling his hips with a kittenish little smile on her lips. Still meeting slightly hazy blue eyes, small hands grabbed strong wrists… and pushed them up above Fíli's head.

“Still at my service, Master Dwarf?” she murmured lowly, rolling her hips to rip a low moan out of him. Oh yes, she was going to take her time taking him apart. They had all night.

“Always.” Fíli rumbled, feeling his blood run hotter beneath his skin. “Forever, my hobbit, always.”

“Then I shall be as bold as to ask you keep your hands above your head, Master Dwarf.”

“You will not let me touch you, amrâlimê?”

Bilbo hummed, trailing kisses over his cheek, nipped at his jugular, ghosting hot breath down over his chest as she slowly yet surely made her way down over his body.

“At the moment? No, not at all.” She cast a glance up, seeing how those breath-taking blue eyes watched her every move, focused yet glassy at the same time. But Fíli obediently let his arms remain where she had put them, though his hands grasped each other firmer the farther down she got. “Maybe if you obey my every wish I will allow you such liberties later.”

Fíli groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillows when she finally graced him with a delicate lick.

“I am yours to dictate, my treasure. Only yours.”

It didn’t take her long to completely wipe out his mind for all but the pleasure she gave him.

 

-

 

Fíli sighed where he lay, a hand casually stroking over soft skin and his nose buried in unruly messy curls as he watched the sun rise ever so slowly over the city of Imladris. As calm as he seemed, he was worried. They had to leave Rivendell, not because Fíli felt uncomfortable around elves but because they had the passes to get over and they were chasing the very last days of summer across the mountains. Had they been traveling like they had with his uncle, only a small group of men, and all of them fighters, he wouldn’t have worried too much… however, that wasn’t the case. They had a woman and a small child with them, and as if that wasn’t cause for worry enough, they also had the wagons with them. Bilbo's and Adal's entire lives were packed into those carts, their history, their memories… and their future. This entire journey was about so much more than just moving to Erebor.

“If you keep worrying about useless things you will end up with white hair long before your time, darling.” came the low mumble from his arms. When he looked down he was met with tired green eyes. Tired… but glittering all the same. “But by all means, do go on. I like silver foxes.”

“Silver…fox?”

Once more Fíli found himself on his back with his beloved straddling his middle. Bilbo grinned down at her blinking husband, her smile growing sharper when she felt him react to her beneath her hips.

“Aye, silver fox. That is what we call older, _handsome_ , men with white hair, back in the Shire.”

A blond eyebrow rose slowly… Fíli didn’t mind being trapped under her at all and thus had no intention of struggling against her hold. Quite the opposite, he was more than willing to cooperate with her every demand.

“While I do admit I am older than you, amrâlimê, I do not think myself old enough to be called anything ‘silver’ quite yet.” he murmured chasing her lips hovering just a breath above his, unable to stop the barely there whine when she moved away.

“No, I suppose not.” Bilbo grinned. Having this kind of power over such a mighty dwarven warrior was heady. “You are all the best kinds of gold, my darling.” She finally allowed him a peck to his lips. “Sunshine reflecting over a still pond, fields of ripe rye swaying in the wind, dribbled honey over warm pancakes with fresh berries, the very first Tussilago of spring…” Bilbo stopped when she noticed the look on his face. She blinked at him. “Darling… are you-… blushing?”

Her stunned question merely deepened the colour on his face, ever so slowly rising to his hairline as he stared back at her, refusing to answer. The sudden grin on her face suddenly turned a touch wicked.

Clearly, her beloved dwarven husband wasn’t used to be compared to the _finer_ things in life… not pertaining to metal and rocks.

“Oh, precious sunflower, tulip of my heart, golden-haired nightingale-”

Fíli did the only thing he could to escape with his dignity intact, of what he had left of it. He flipped their positions and silenced her giggles with a kiss.

 

-

 

As much as Bilbo had told Fíli to calm down and stop worrying about their continued travel, she wasn’t the only one who looked towards the mountains with flashes of worry in her eyes as they left Rivendell behind. While Lord Elrond certainly hadn’t minded escorting them to the borders of his realm, his elves wouldn’t actually help them across the passes. Thankfully though, the group seemed to have the weather on their side as they hurried as much as they could along the path leading further up between the imposing peaks.

 

Fíli wasn’t the only one who constantly kept an eye out for goblins, knowing all too well that there was a whole city full of the nasty creatures beneath them somewhere, and he had no intentions of running, or falling, through that shit again. Once had been more than enough and one glance at the other members of the original Company confirmed their shared opinion on the matter. They made camp only after they knew for certain that it was safe, preferring to sleep tightly huddled up for warmth instead of lighting a fire to attract attention. Such a light source would’ve drawn curious eyes closer, especially since there were no trees to block most of it out from a distance. Fíli took watch as much as he could, always keeping an eye out for any possible danger to his family and comrades, and while he trusted his men blindly, he couldn’t help taking on most of the duties. He just couldn’t relax, knowing how dangerous this trip truly was. His own Quest hadn’t felt anywhere near as dangerous as this one, where they didn’t have to sneak towards the Lonely Mountain in secrecy as not to awaken a sleeping dragon. Now he knew how Thorin must've felt, having his two nephews along, his family, constantly worrying for their safety while at the same time leaning on them for support.

 

However, what turned out to attack them in the end, wasn’t goblins or orcs on wargs… but rather their own. Dwarven traitors snuck up on them right before first light to catch them at their weakest, when they were tired and all too ready to just up and continue… but the resulting scuffle was over much faster than anyone anticipated.

They all stopped, frozen, at the sound of a child wailing. Fíli's worst nightmare came true when his One carefully climbed out of the wagon where she and Adalgrim had been sleeping, their son tightly in her arms. Before anyone could say anything though, Bilbo opened her mouth, green eyes blinking at the newcomers. She was a lot paler than he had ever seen her and it didn’t help the hopeless grip of fear around his heart.

“Dwarves? Why are we being attacked by _dwarves_!?”

“Why is a hobbit traveling across the mountains so late in the season?” one of the traitors spat right back, holding a blade up to a silent Bofur's neck. “And with a child to boot?”

Bilbo frowned, looking out over the mess that was her company and those who had attacked them. Then without further ado she turned to Glóin, ignoring the question asked.

“Master Dwarf, I demand a refund for this!”

“Refund?” the redheaded dwarf parroted at her, blinking comically. “What for!?”

“There was nothing written about _ruffians_ in the contract!” Bilbo channelled her inner Lobelia and put on a truly impressive copy of the Sackville-Baggins’ scowl. “You promised me a passage safe from goblins, orcs, wargs, wolves, bears, trolls, fairies, witches, badgers and snakes! There was _nothing_ in the contract we signed about dwarven _thugs_!” she babbled. The dafter she sounded the better

“Hey!” one of the other dwarves exclaimed loudly, immediately getting the hobbit’s attention.

“No?” Bilbo snapped at him, discreetly pulling Adal's hood further down over his face. Hearing the commotion outside she had reacted seconds after realising exactly _what_ it was they were being attacked by. She had swiftly and carefully pulled all beads and braids out of their hair, pulling Adal's booties off, for while the child was certainly hobbit enough with his pointed ears and hairy feet, he was also dwarf enough to have much more sensitive feet than his mother, and told him to cry like he had done the day Lotho beat him. Not to mention, with whiskers under his ears and his golden hair, he was a walking image of his father. You'd have to be blind in one eye and look in the other direction to miss _that_.

 

Somehow understanding the urgency in his mother’s voice, and being terrified on top of that, Adalgrim had burst into a loud wail that made a mother’s heart ache. Now she understood why Lord Elrond had pulled her aside but a few days before their departure, and strongly urged her to change Fíli's mind, to stay the winter in Rivendell. They were more than welcome to spend the cold long months with him and his elves at the Last Homely House, until the snow had melted and the passes were safe once more. Although _safe_ was a relative term considering the other dangers up there.

Either way, obviously, that hadn’t happened. But Bilbo had been prepared for _something_ to happen after that conversation. Damn the old coot for not simply coming out and telling her that they'd be ambushed by their own. Elven mysticism Bilbo's foot!

 

She hauled Adal further up on her hip, holding on to the boy tightly. “What are you then, Master Ruffian?” she asked pointedly. “You have attacked my guards and escort, are you here to steal my doilies? I will not let you have them, no, I will not let you have them at all!”

“We have no interest in your doilies!” the first one snapped, a rough looking dwarf with black eyes. “We have our sight set on something much more valuable than some mere table cloth. We want the Crown Prince of Erebor!”

Again, before Fíli could as much as react, Bilbo jumped to it.

 

“You are looking for a prince amidst my group?” She snorted, once more sneering like a certain hobbit back in the Shire. “Is this Erebor you speak of so poor that they need to send out their royals as armed escorts for travelling hobbits? Must be a bit of a one horse-town then.” She turned her nose up at the dwarf, absentmindedly patting her son on the rump. “If you need a hostage, feel free to grab that one.” She nodded towards Nori with a degrading sniff. “I would not mind missing the smell of him at all.” She wasn’t hateful of Nori at all, rather she considered him one of her closest friends, however, she also knew if anyone would be able to suss out what these men actually wanted with Fíli, and to get away from them, it would definitely be the Spymaster. And while the Ri looked affronted enough, making quite a show of sniffing his own armpit, one glance at him told her he was aware of her thinking enough.

Thankfully, Dori kept his mouth shut, being as overprotective as he was of his brothers.

 

“I will not ask you a third time, _Miss Hobbit_ ,” the one who was probably the leader, snarled. “What is a hobbit doing traveling out of the Shire?”

Bilbo raised her chin defiantly, silently relieved that Adalgrim's cries had died down to mere sniffling against his mother’s neck. His grip on her hair pulled at her scalp but she wasn’t going to say anything about it, let the child get any comfort he could find. Even if it was pulling hair out of her head.

“I am on my way to the Iron Hills.” Bilbo replied calmly. “A cousin of mine met herself a dwarf and decided to run off with him when he had to return. Quite scandalous that I might tell you! Hasty was his trip and she had to leave all her things behind, which is why she wrote to me and promised me proper compensation should I do her the favour of packing up her house and bring her belongings to her so she can get a taste of home where she lives now.” Bilbo nodded. “After this I will demand proper compensation indeed! Even for family, going through such horrendous encounters has a price, Master Ruffian!”

“And what be the name of this cousin, married to a dwarf?”

“Rowan Took.” Bilbo sneered back.

 

Oh boy, poor Rowan. If Bilbo's darling cousin ever decided to leave the Shire, she would find herself with quite the reputation. Thankfully, Rowan was like most hobbits, happiest close to home… despite being a Took, so the chances of her ever going anywhere past Bree were slim to none.

“And this dwarf she has married, what be his name?”

“Master _Ruffian_ ,” Bilbo snapped, angrily stomping her foot for good measure, making herself look even sillier. “If I am going to be questioned like some criminal I demand to know _why_. I know nothing of this prince you talk about and I assure you, if I did, I would have pointed him out to you in a heartbeat! Why would I endanger my child by withholding such information from you when you clearly have no scruples at all!”

The smile the dwarf gave her and Adal made chills run down her spine.

“An orphaned child is easy enough to get rid of.” He offered her a cold grin. “I am sure there are plenty of hobbits in the Shire who would be willing to take him on when we pass.”

Green eyes narrowed dangerously, her grip tightening on her darling boy. She swallowed hard.

“And what of my unborn?” she asked calmly. “What do you plan to do about _that_?” Bilbo inquired, very decidedly _not_ looking at her husband.

This wasn’t _quite_ how she had planned on breaking the happy news to Fíli about her ‘situation’. Drat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I’ve been REALLY busy with work and I’ve been working A LOT! Whenever I had time off I've been too tired or too busy with other stuff to write… and yeah, there was also a writer’s block in there somewhere. Don’t worry, this story is not abandoned or forgotten.
> 
> Also, I could’ve forced more smut in there and ruined it with shitty quality, or left it where it is. Frankly speaking, I was all out of fucks to give where smut was concerned. Maybe I’ll squeeze some more in later. Also, while this IS proofread, I'm exhausted from work and I did on my lunch break. I'll go over it later to check again.
> 
> Please comment and remind me how much I love writing! ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥


	8. Chapter 8

For a second there, the only thing that stopped Fíli from dropping his swords was pure reflex. Blue eyes stared in horror at his beloved, seeing her standing there, pretending to be some silly dolly bird, with their son on her hip… and a child growing in her belly. From the corner of his eye he saw how Bofur, who had looked angry more than anything about the situation he was in, suddenly lost all colour, staring at the lass in their midst. And he wasn’t the only one either. Nori's fingers twitched, the only sign at how shocked he was at the sudden news about his future queen’s state, his mind probably working as frantically as Fíli's own to figure out a way to get them, and _her_ , out of this situation unharmed.

Pregnant. She was pregnant! And they hadn’t known! For while they all had noticed how Bilbo got tired more quickly as of late, they had assumed it had to do with the journey. Long days, thin air and high altitudes. Now it suddenly made perfect sense why she was so easily tired, or hungry, even though she had tried her best not to eat more than any of the others.

They had chalked up her pallor in the morning to simply being fatigued.

 

The only good thing about this whole situation was that she seemed to have caught the traitors just as off guard as she had her own Company. The only reason they had succeeded as well as they had with their ambush was because they outnumbered Fíli's group three to one… and with a woman and child to think of, better run than fight a fight which could cost them more than they could afford. Much more.

“Well, Master Ruffian,” Bilbo asked calmly. “What do you wish to do now? Do you intend to kill my escort and keep me hostage until my baby is born and then do off with me, a toddler _and_ an infant?” Her voice cracked, the mere thought of losing either of her children more than enough to shoot fear down her spine. Knowing how much dwarrow loved little ones, Bilbo continued talking, although it pained her to do so. “Or do you not consider an unborn important enough? I beg you, Master Dwarf, to let us continue our journey so I can arrive at the Iron Hills safe and sound with my son. If you wish to check my belongings for valuables you are free to do so, I cannot, and will not, stop you.”

 

The dwarf watched her for a long silent moment. Then…

“If you have a small child, and you have one on the way… _where_ is your husband?” he demanded to know. He may not be an expert on hobbits but he knew enough to know that they were mumsy busybodies who very rarely left the Shire. And they valued family as high as dwarrow did.

 

Bilbo didn’t as much as glance in the direction of Fíli but rather swallowed hard. Having gotten this far, it would be stupid to expose herself that easily.

“I have none.” she murmured softly, holding on to Adal. Terror and wailing seemed to have been enough to leave him sluggish, awake but not quite aware in his fear of the unnamed dwarrow around them. Good. Later she would make damn sure none of this left any scarring for the future. “My first child is the fruit of a love affair and I was silly enough to think the father would marry me. He did not, and yet I am about to give him a second child. Which is why it did not take much encouragement for me to go to the Iron Hills to live with my cousin. A new life for me and my children there would be kinder than a life full of scorn and gossip in the Shire.”

“I do not believe you.” the dwarf stated after her rather lengthy explanation.

 

If Bilbo hadn’t given Fíli his first white hairs already what with putting herself in such obvious danger when she had been told quite clearly to stay _hidden_ in case of potential harm, she certainly made an effort to turn him white prematurely when she after a moment of thinking, silently went up to the dwarf… and carefully placed his hand over her belly. She didn’t show much yet, and through her many layers to keep warm the dwarrow in her company couldn’t really be faulted for not having noticed… but it was obvious enough if you touched.

“Is that proof enough for you?” Her low voice seemed to spook the dwarf out of whatever shock, or trance, the gentle touch had put him in. He withdrew his hand as if he'd been burned, completely unaware of the boiling bloodlust beneath his target’s skin. “Neither love nor marriage are required to make a child, Master Dwarf. Only lust, and I have paid the price for that. Even so, I would never regret it for my children are my everything.”

 

Again, the dwarves of the other group watched her silently. She bore no signs of any marriage. There were no flowers in her hair, no braids nor beads. This hobbit lass out on a long journey wore no jewellery whatsoever and her clothes while warm, were worn. The leader bared his teeth at her while thinking.

“We will take you up on your ‘offer’ of looking through your belongings.” he finally huffed. “The less weight for you to haul across the mountains.”

“Please leave me enough to feed my boy.” was all Bilbo asked, hoping that the crates the dwarves checked wouldn’t contain anything giving her lies away. And while Bilbo was certainly attached to her mother’s doilies, she’d let them have them all as long as they left her family unharmed.

 

She watched in silence how they dug through her things, through books and maps and china, through her and Adal's clothes, how they snorted at her underthings, but thankfully, left them alone. What little gold she had had in her packs they took, and a few knickknacks, but then they left, happy with their loot… and one good look at this odd hobbit who had decided to travel across the Misty Mountains for the sake of her bastards.

“Be safe on your journey then, little miss.” the dwarf with the black eyes bowed exaggeratingly before her, his pockets filled with whatever valuables he'd managed to find among her things, though her silver seemed to have been blessedly well hidden among the linen and fragile china… and under the fake bottom of the cart. “May your continued travel be free of orcs, goblins, fairies and badgers!”

Joining in on the loud laughter that earned him, he and his men very carefully drew back from the armed escort and finally disappeared amongst the rocks and outcrops of the mountainside. Only moments later they were completely gone, not to be heard or seen.

 

Knowing that it was much too soon to say they were safe, the dwarrow of Fíli's Company made sure everyone was unharmed, muttering low words of reassurance to one another, and moved to continue their journey.

And that’s when Bilbo's legs finally decided to give out beneath her. With a vicelike grip on Adalgrim, she crashed to her knees, her entire body shaking with adrenaline and fear. Her thoughts were swirling in her head like drops of milk in tea, scattered yet connected, razor-sharp yet muddled. She blinked when someone slowly kneeled before her, a low voice begging her attention.

“Are you alright… Miss?” Fíli croaked. He wanted so dearly to hold them in his arms, his son, his One, this brave and selfless creature who had put herself in danger just to protect _their_ family. _Him_. She had said those things to protect _Fíli_ , to keep her husband from harm, to make sure they all survived this ludicrous encounter with dwarven traitors. “Do you need anything?”

 

Jade green eyes stared at him unblinking, only reacting when Adalgrim whimpered in her grip, held too tight to breathe. Only then did those bottomless green eyes suddenly fill with tears… that brimmed over.

“Fíli…” she whispered, her voice erased by the wind. “Fíli…”

“Not yet, nungel.” Fíli managed to press out just as silently. “I cannot hold you yet, we do not know if they are watching us.”

“They would have taken you.” More tears ran down pale cheeks. “They would have hurt you.”

“Aye…” was all he could reply to that. He had known that there were the occasional group of dwarrow from Ered Luin, unhappy with how the Line of Durin had fought, and won, back Erebor and righteously made the men that came with them very wealthy. It mattered little that these aristocrats had refused to help reclaim the Lonely Mountain from Smaug, blaming everything from family duties to aching knees not to come, they wanted their place back as high nobility and the fact that Thorin considered such honours something _earned_ , mattered little. It angered them even more that cooks, thieves and toymakers were welcome in Thorin's company while their esteemed selves had to ask for an audience with the King Under the Mountain, and his Heir Apparent, just like the rest of the plebeians. Fíli had known they'd attempt something sooner or later… he just hadn’t thought they'd chase him across Arda! And him being away wasn’t even supposed to be public knowledge! Filing that knowledge away for now, he instead gently urged his beloved to his feet. It made him ache seeing how she still trembled.

 

“Get back on the wagon, Miss Baggins.” Fíli murmured. “We will pack up and leave immediately.”

Wanting nothing more than to be _held_ , to feel how wonderfully _alive_ Fíli was against her, Bilbo merely nodded and turned towards the wagon. Only to stop when his voice called out once more. “Miss Baggins?”

“Yes?” she asked lowly, meeting the beautiful blue eyes of the man she loved.

“Are you really-… with child?”

Bilbo managed to press out a smile and nodded. Then she turned back to the cart and, with extra help from Bofur and Dori, climbed up. Behind her she left Fíli, who drew a deep breath and closed his eyes.

_Should we have waited until spring?_ he wondered. _Did we really have to rush because of one brat?_ But there had been so much more than just ‘one brat’. The whole sabotage of their wedding day showed signs of true ill will and if things _began_ with shredded dresses and broken furniture, how much worse could they get when they escalated? He hadn’t been willing to find out. Letting the air out of his lungs slowly he opened his eyes and turned towards the horizon. There was snow in the air. Not a good sign, with or without dangers lurking ahead of them and behind. Then he thought of Bilbo, who was in the family way, and got to work. They needed to get across the mountains faster than ever.

 

-

 

Three days they got on the road as soon as the sun rose, only stopping for the night at dusk. They constantly kept an eye out for the other dwarrow, not wanting to risk them returning and figuring out they'd been had and Nori even circled back several times just to make sure they weren’t followed. Three days. Three days where Fíli could do nothing but watch over his wife and son, unable to hold either of them for fear of another ambush. As much as his comrades were excellent warriors, more than able to take on a bunch of traitors, and quite happy to do so too, they simply couldn’t risk any harm to the two members of their group that were completely defenceless. And traitors, as loving of bairns as they may be, wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to take Bilbo and Adalgrim hostage if they realised just who they were.

 

Only when they were absolutely _positive_ that they weren’t followed did he walk up to his beloved and pressed a long kiss to her lips, pouring all the love and comfort he could into the one gesture. He held her hard, as hard as he dared knowing there was life growing in her belly, and he couldn’t help the tears silently running down his cheeks when _he_ finally got to touch and see for himself. Neither could he help the laugh that escaped him, so relieved and happy was he to know that they were safe and sound, all _four_ of them. Bilbo couldn’t help her weak laugh either, holding on to a still sleepy Adalgrim. He had his booties back on, for while snow didn’t bother her, it was much too cold for him. The beads they had worn were safely tucked away in a hidden pocket that Dori had sown in her jacket after their run-in with those thugs.

“How long have you known?” he asked after a long moment of them merely breathing the other in, ignoring the sappy looks from Bofur and Nori. Glóin didn’t even pretend not to sigh in blissful longing at the sight.

“A while.” Bilbo murmured. “I did not want to say anything too soon.”

“I now understand why Lord Elrond was so eager for us to stay the winter.” Fíli muttered. “Bloody elf could have said _why._ ”

“I do not think elves are able to just shrug their mysticism off that easily, my love.” Bilbo pressed out on a tired laugh. “Old habits and all that I suppose.”

“That certainly would explain a lot.” the blond sighed with a roll of his eyes. Dropping the subject of nasty Fair Folk, Fíli instead pressed another sweet kiss to his beloved’s lips, his hand oh so gently stroking over her belly. He could feel the bump under her layers and if they hadn’t been where they were, in the situation they were, Fíli could’ve soared away on happy little clouds. Another child! His One blessed him with two children! Another little one to love and cherish just as much as Adalgrim! And if the little one turned out to be anything like Adal, the Kingdom of Erebor would soon have a new pair of rascals, just like Fíli and Kíli had been when they'd been young dwarflings. Fíli couldn’t wait to learn of what mischief they'd get up to!

 

Having pressed another sweet kiss to Bilbo's lips he suddenly sank down to his knees, whispering a silent prayer of protection and strength in Khuzdûl, to the life growing inside his beloved. _You are safe, grow strong while your father protects you. You, your mother and brother. You are loved and oh so welcome._

He looked up when a warm hand gently caressed his cheek, meeting loving green eyes. How Bilbo constantly grew more beautiful in his eyes he had no idea but she did, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Up now, love.” Bilbo murmured. “We need to keep moving.”

With one more kiss to her belly, Fíli rose to his feet. And ordered his men to break camp.

 

-

 

While Mahal had been generous with their luck during their journey, helping them evade everything from goblins to larger groups of orcs, he wasn’t going to let them just sail across the mountains completely unhindered. They did run into smaller groups of orcs, swiftly dealt with and left behind, buried as deep as the rocky ground allowed them, or throw over edges as not to attract other predators and scavengers. They got stuck in the pouring rain, freezing temperatures turning rivulets of water into sheet ice and it was with a bawling child and sorrow in his heart that Fíli put the pony out of its misery. A badly broken leg was hard to heal when they had all the best of preconditions, up on a cold mountain with no healer to help them there was no chance to help the animal. There simply was no other way. And with one pony less one of the men had to give theirs up to pull the cart. At least they hadn’t just left the pony there to rot, they had harvested what they could from it, sent a prayer of gratitude to Yavanna, and then moved on as fast as they could, for the smell of blood would soon lure all kinds of creatures to their location.

 

Then true winter finally came upon them. Large soft flakes of white fell from the sky in ever increasing quantities and it was nothing but sheer luck that they managed to find the crevice in the rock side, large enough for all of them and the carts to fit in and seek shelter from the oncoming snowstorm. A quick check confirmed that it was a mere crack in the mountain, shallow but dry, no tunnels from the other end that could lead to all kinds of heartache. And thankfully the opening was angled in such a way that it couldn’t be seen from the outside unless you knew exactly where and what to look for. Not that you'd see anything through the whiteout to begin with. Another few hours and they would’ve been in dire straits all of them!

 

Knowing they were safe, for now, they made a small fire and settled down to get warm and fed. Traveling through the passes had taken longer than they had anticipated and Fíli wasn’t the only one who worried for Bilbo, her belly growing and finally showing properly through her many layers. Knowing she needed it more than they did, Bofur and the Ri’s had started to take some of their food and put it in her bowl when she didn’t see, making sure she didn’t know they gave her more to eat.

Fíli hadn’t bothered with sneaking. He would plunk his arse down next to his One and without further ado, spoon some of his meal into her bowl for everybody to see. Fíli had lived on a lot less than what they were getting and between going a little hungry and making sure the mother of his children was well-fed, Fíli would choose hunger any day. Not that he had gotten away with it without complaints of course. Bilbo had refused to accept more than her fair share of their rations but Fíli had refused to accept any such nonsense. Bilbo was a hobbit, used to larger more frequent meals _and_ she was heavy with child. Dwarrow were sturdy creatures and wouldn’t notice the difference in provisions much at all.

His reasoning had earned the filthiest of glares when little Adalgrim had walked up to his mother, as worried as only a little fauntling could possibly be, and offered the last of his meal to his mother, saying the baby needed food too to be healthy and grow strong. While Bilbo had very gently denied Adal's offer, she had, after some grumbling, accepted Fíli's. She may not be happy about it, but she could see his reasons were sound. She had met his soft smile with a dry look, blushing slightly when he merely leaned in with a little chuckle to press a kiss to her temple.

 

-

 

The snowstorm raged on for days outside their little shelter. Days and days. Inside the little cave they were safe and sound, if slightly bored. The men took care of their weapons, making sure the damp couldn’t get to them and cause rust, they spoke softly, telling stories, singing some days, just resting, for they knew that once they were out they had a long journey down the mountains and the first stay with comforts was far away yet.

Being right in the middle of a low conversation with Nori and Glóin about the event with the thugs, who they might’ve been, who had sent them, and what to do about them once they were back to Erebor, Fíli and his men all blinked when the smallest member of the Company came up to them with a little giggle… and held out three small glass jars, wrapped with small bows made of silk ribbon.

“Happy bi’thday, da!” Adalgrim beamed at them.

“But it is not my birthday, my pebble.” Fíli answered unsurely, accepting the little jar, which he now saw contained Bilbo's homemade jam. And one glance told him that Nori's and Glóin's contained different jellies.

 

A soft laugh from Bilbo turned their gazes there, even as the boy went back to her for more of the little jars… to hand out to the rest of the stunned dwarrow.

“No, but it is Adalgrim's, silly dwarf.” she mused. “In the Shire, we _give_ presents when we celebrate our birthday.” Her green eyes sparkled. “Adalgrim Baggins, Son of Fíli, turns 4 today, my love.”

 

The dwarves stared at the child, positively beaming with happiness as he made sure to give them all a little jar of something sweet to enjoy on his big day. Bilbo hadn’t moved from her seat, preferring not to jostle herself too much lest she need to make water again, but smiled lovingly as her little boy giddily handed out their homemade gifts.

“How long have you had these?” Dori asked softly, unable to help the little smile when he noticed the gooseberry jam in his hand. Bilbo had remembered from a conversation long ago, that Dori preferred gooseberries over other sweeter berries, she had remembered such an insignificant detail. Judging by the look in her eye, he could see that she remembered more than just that detail. She remembered the entire conversation, as silly as it had been. Somehow, it filled him with warmth… and something he couldn’t quite put a name on.

“Not long.” Bilbo answered with a little shrug, a little smile playing on her lips. “I made some before we left the Shire, and some I made in Rivendell. The elves of Lord Elrond's kitchen were very generous and forthcoming with what I needed when I explained what I would use it for.”

Fíli snorted, but shook his head with a chuckle, walking up to his beloved, gently placing a hand over her belly as he leaned down to give her a soft kiss.

 

Blue eyes blinked at green. He blinked again.

“Is that-” he pressed out, not taking his eyes off of those bewitching green. Then he felt it again.

Bilbo grimaced.

“That was a strong one.” she muttered, shifting slightly to rub her belly where her unborn had just delivered a rather vigorous kick to her side. Hobbits didn’t have to be big to kick hard, something she had learned the hard way when she carried Adal. “There there, little one, calm down. No need to kick your mummy so hard.” She sighed in relief when the warmth of Fíli's hand under her jacket seeped through her dress into her skin, calming the baby down. The gentle stroking soothed mother as well as child.

Fíli himself couldn’t stop smiling like a loon when he felt yet another, less gumptious, kick under his palm. He had never felt such a wonder before.

“Once it stops snowing we will start making our way down the mountain,” he murmured. “And once we are down we can make for Erebor faster.” He looked up into loving eyes, offering his One a wide grin, not entirely unlike those his brother used to give their mother when they'd been up to mischief. “We will be home soon, amrâlimê.”

A warm hand gently caressed his cheek, tugging lightly on one of his stashebraids so he could give her another peck.

“We are looking forward to it, all three of us.”

 

-

 

Much like Fíli had said, once it stopped snowing, and the dwarves had shovelled themselves, the ponies and the carts out of the cave, they hurried down the mountain as fast as they could. They left easy tracks to follow in the snow and while they knew that at least _one_ mountain contained goblins, there was no saying if the nasty little critters hadn’t dug their way through more. Though he doubted anything with brains would be daft enough to go out to hunt after such a nasty snowstorm… but you never knew with goblins. Or orcs.

Fíli held his breath every time one of the ponies slipped on ice, neighing high enough for it to echo between the stone walls around them. He gripped the reigns harder whenever they heard other noises than that of water dripping, hooves plodding or the creak of wooden wheels. He wasn’t the only one. A fortnight after they had left their shelter in the cave his back and shoulders ached with the constant tension… and Bilbo’s belly kept growing. As they _finally_ left the Misty Mountains behind, she was too large to hold Adalgrim on her hip and while she certainly tried her best to do her part and help out, she soon tired and had to sit down. Somehow knowing that his energy was too much for his mother, Adal chose to ride with his father instead, or with Bofur who was more than happy to chatter with him in hushed tones while they made their way through the changing landscape.

 

Fíli knew it burned time they didn’t have, but he also knew that his Company _had_ to rest properly. And restock supplies. He turned them towards the house of Beorn, hoping against hope that the skinchanger would accept them once more. Hopefully he was _awake_ and hadn’t entered winter hibernation like actual bears and as it turned out… he hadn’t.

Beorn came to meet them long before they had even spotted the cottage, thundering out of the snow-covered bushes and evergreens, successfully sending the entire Company into an adrenaline fuelled panic. The bear, very obviously not in the mood for guests, and quite possibly tired of a certain less desirable kind of visitors, came to an abrupt halt when sensitive fluffy ears picked up the high-pitched wail of a terrified small child. Black beady eyes linked at them, ears twitching to locate the bairn as the snout loudly sniffed and snuffled at the air.

 

Then the air rippled as the man took over and fur receded to leave only skin behind.

“Why would dwarves come by my land with a child?” he rasped, demanding answers.

“Master Beorn?” Fíli pressed out lowly, swallowing hard. His hands had a white knuckled grip on his swords for he wasn’t going to take any chances, not with his One or his son. “I am Fíli, Heir Apparent of Erebor. Years ago, you very generously gave a Company of dwarrow shelter, letting us rest and eat ourselves full at your table before we resumed our Quest to retake Erebor from the firedrake, Smaug. I ask you most kindly if you would show us the same generosity now that we, my family and my Company, are on our way home from the Shire.”

Beorn blinked at the dwarves before him, armed and ready to fight should he decide to attack… but he also saw that they were exhausted and worn. Dark curious eyes turned to the wagon from where the wailing came, for clearly, whoever hid in there with the babe hadn’t managed to silence him.

 

“Show me who is in the cart.” He nodded towards the equipage. Oh yes, he well remembered having a most annoying wizard come by with his little friends, and he certainly remembered this young dwarf… and his brother. Despite being guests, they had managed to get up to some harmless mischief. Though one glance at the blond now was enough to see that he had changed since then. The Fíli that had visited years back had been little more than a child in the way he acted and laughed, the Fíli that stood before him now was a man. He had fought, and almost died, in a bloody war, he had matured… and gained something precious to protect from the looks of it.

That didn’t mean Beorn was just going to let them prance into his home though, he wanted to know for sure how many of them sought shelter. This time. At least the batty wizard wasn’t with them this time. Small blessings.

 

Swallowing hard, Fíli walked up to the carriage, murmuring softly to whomever was in there, before emerging with a small boy, carefully handing him to Glóin, before disappearing inside the wagon once more.

Beorn blinked, his bear suddenly _very_ interested when the dwarf emerged once more… gently helping a highly pregnant woman out from her shelter, and with the aid of another of his men, down on the ground. When she looked up, after a nervous glance both towards her husband and her son, safely held in a pair of strong arms, green eyes watched him warily.

“Master Beorn,” she greeted softly, the barest hitch in her voice. “I am delighted to meet you after having heard many tales of you and your hospitality from our Company.”

 

Crouching down, Beorn peered at her, ignoring how the blond dwarf took half a step in front of her. She offered him a shy little smile, and that’s when he saw that whatever she was, she certainly was no dwarf.

“Little… elf?”

“ _Hobbit_ , Master Beorn.” Bilbo corrected lowly. “My people dwell in the rolling hills of the Shire, and we seldom leave that land.”

“Hobbit…” Beorn nodded, having a very faint memory of hearing tales from a long long time ago when Short Folk travelled through the Vale of Anduin heading west over the mountains. “You are with child, hobbit.”

“My name is Bilbo Baggins, and yes, I am.” Bilbo pressed out, trying not to sound too snotty. “Please, Master Beorn, would you not allow us to seek shelter with you? We have travelled so far and my son is tired and hungry. We will not cause you any trouble, I assure you.”

After all the stories told of this giant of a man, how he loved his animals so, Bilbo felt it safe to assume that he wouldn’t turn a small child away, much less harm it. So when dark eyes turned to wide green, she merely smiled. “If you will not grant us our bold request, we will resume our journey towards Erebor without disturbing you further.”

 

Fíli knew better than to question his beloved at that point. He knew she was sharp, knew her eyes probably saw more than his, so he merely stood back when the skinchanger came closer to peer down at a staring Adalgrim. He snuffled the wild golden locks, earning himself a low whimper, then abruptly returned to his feet.

“Little bunny and her kit are welcome.” Beorn rumbled. His bear was still very much intrigued by the little ones.

“What about the rest of us?” Fíli pressed out.

“Hm?” The large man blinked at him, raising his eyebrows… then shrugged. “You can come too. Your ponies need rest and food.”

Fíli glanced at his men, seeing the relief there. Shrugging, he helped his One back up on the wagon, grabbing Adalgrim when Glóin handed him back, then clucked to make the ponies follow their host. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

 

-

 

“Absolutely fearless.” Bofur hissed furiously where he sat by the table, nursing a large stein of ale… while not letting Adalgrim out of his sight. Not that he had to, he wasn’t the only one who kept tabs on the bairn… even as Adal himself shrieked with glee as Beorn tossed him into the air and easily caught him on the way down, laughing loudly with joy. Fíli's son had been wary of the skinchanger for a grand total of an hour. During that time, he had stuffed his cheeks with honey cakes, much to the delight of Beorn, Beorn's animals, and Adalgrim himself. He had drunk as much milk as his belly could hold, then decided to explore the house so much larger than he had ever seen or imagined. He had taken great delight in the curious animals, so eager to greet and play with the little boy, then quite by accident, gotten too close to Beorn's wood chopping axe. A huge hand coming from out of nowhere had swept him up singlehandedly and put him away at a safe distance while he was told that ‘little bunny kits should not play with dangerous axes’. Adalgrim had been sold then and there, much to the grumbling dismay of his father.

 

“Do not look at me like that, dear heart.” Bilbo mused into her own mug of milk. “He _is_ your son and you told me yourself that you were a rascal as a dwarfling.”

“Fairly sure he got that side from you.” Fíli muttered. While he was certainly cautious around the large man, especially seeing his son and heir closer to the rafters than Fíli was strictly comfortable with, he wasn’t as worried about Adalgrim as some of the other dwarrow were. Beorn knew Fíli since before the Battle of the Five Armies, Fíli knew Beorn was a gentle giant… unless you were an orc, and he knew that Beorn would never harm a child, be it a fauntling, elfling or dwarfling. Also, as bad as it sounded, he was silently relieved that Adal had a new target for all his questions, and they were many. Actually, now that he knew they were truly _safe_ , that they didn’t have to keep watch, didn’t have to worry about traitors or goblins or orcs, exhaustion was slowly starting to take over. Despite the hot bath he'd taken earlier, his body still ached of sore muscles and he knew he needed proper deep rest. So he begged his men a good night, helped his beloved up, at the back of his mind counting how long they had left before they arrived at the Lonely Mountain. According to what Bilbo had said, she would be due just about when they got there. Just. Hopefully a few days after. How long until then? A month?

 

“Do not worry about Adal.” Bilbo said softly as they made their way to the room they'd so generously been appointed. “When he tires, Bofur and Dori will take him to bed.” She offered her tired husband a little smile. “And if he sleeps with the men, he will not wake us come morning when he demands second breakfast for the first time since we left Rivendell. He might even forget to wake us and play with Master Beorn's animals instead.”

“Mahal, be so generous.” Fíli sighed. It had made his heart ache to deny his son second breakfast during their trip across the Misty Mountains, and elevenses, but there simply hadn’t been enough place for that much food in the carts. Adalgrim had understood of course, and being his mother’s son, he had very politely refused when the dwarves offered him part of their own snacks between breaks, even when Fíli did. A child that young shouldn’t have to turn down food for the sake of grown warriors but as much as they had tried, Adalgrim had been adamant about not taking from anybody else’s bowl. Hopefully the long months of fewer meals hadn’t caused him any lasting damage.

Well, such thoughts would have to wait for later. They got changed and climbed into the first warm bed in _months_ , and pulled the blanket up. Fíli was out before his head had hit the pillow.

 

-

 

Much like the last handful of days, Fíli woke up warm and content, with the low murmur of noise from the other end of the house. Adalgrim had already snuck out for first breakfast, something Dori had taken it upon himself to make sure the child got, and if judging by the smells wafting in through the crack in the door, second breakfast would soon be served. Drawing a deep breath, Fíli couldn’t help smiling when he felt the scent of honey soap in Bilbo's hair, where he'd buried his face. She was sleeping soundly, for now, for she would wake soon if the kicking under Fíli's hand was anything to go by. The babe gave Fíli's palm another few taps then settled down when he rubbed Bilbo's swollen belly gently. Fíli couldn’t wait until the life growing under her heart was born so he could hold it, just like he could hold his beloved and his son. He wondered how long it would take for his mother to demand to catch up on all the time she’d lost as a grandmother. His smile turned into a shit eating grin. He had been so concerned with how Bilbo and Adal would react to Erebor… that he had completely forgotten to think about how _Erebor_ would react to Bilbo and Adal! There would be more to the Line of Durin, soon they'd be a strong clan again, like they'd used to be before Smaug came. And what with Adal's affinity for asking questions about _everything_ , there was no doubt in Fíli's mind that the Lonely Mountain had a lot of fun, and awkward, times to look forward to.

 

“Do I want to know what you are sniggering about, my darling?” Bilbo grumbled, not having bothered with opening her eyes yet. Her nose twitched though when she felt the smell of fried eggs waft in through the door. “Mmm… breakfast.”

“I was merely thinking about how delighted my family will be to finally meet you.” Fíli answered, pressing delicate kisses to behind a pointed ear. Seeing her belly grow with child hadn’t diminished his lust for her at all, if anything it had made him burn hotter. But then again, Fíli _always_ wanted her, that wasn’t going to change while his blood still pumped hot through his veins.

“Considering the noise you made while thinking of that, should I feel worried?”

Fíli laughed out loud, his hand moving higher under the blanket, to gently cup a full breast. Bilbo whined.

“Perhaps a little?” he grinned. “I know for sure that my brother will be delighted. And my uncle. My mother… may or may not hog our son once we have arrived. And this wee one here, once he or she is born.”

“Not permanently surely?”

“No, I can promise you that much.”

“Then I will not worry.” Bilbo sighed. She really needed to get up and make water… and those fried eggs smelled absolutely mouth-watering. She glanced over her shoulder, meeting impish blue eyes. Ah, she knew that look. She knew it well.

 

“As much as I would love to indulge you in some morning bedplay, love,” she murmured. “I am far too tired for such activities. And too big. I feel like an oliphaunt.”

“Nonsense!” Fíli grinned, nibbling over her shoulder towards her neck. “You are by far the prettiest one out there, and I would be honoured to serve you, my oliphaunt queen. You just lay there and let me do all the work!”

This time it was Bilbo who laughed out loud. Feeling a bristly grin against her nape she hiccupped when a rather energetic kick hit her right in the bladder.

“Once this one is born, I will hold you to that promise, dwarf.” she murmured softly, turning towards him as much as she could given her condition. She pecked him on the lips, earning a softer, deeper kiss. “I will have you serve me all night long.”

“And it will be _my_ pleasure, I assure you, amrâlimê.” Fíli sighed blissfully, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Not all of it, _I_ assure _you_. Now help me up, I need to use the bathroom and I cannot get up on my own. This babe better be good for all the kicks it has given me so far.” Bilbo muttered even as her husband got up with a grin and gently helped her up and out of bed. Everything ached, even her feet, quite the accomplishment for a hobbit. Pregnant or not.

 

She had barely found her balance when the door flew open and Adalgrim came in… riding on one of Beorn's large dogs.

“Mummy!” he cheered, loud enough to wake whomever hadn’t yet woken up from all the noise in the kitchen. “Da!”

His parents glanced at each other silently, and whatever conversation they held, Fíli lost. Rolling his eyes, Fíli admitted defeat and swooped his son off of the dog on his way out of the bedroom.

“We are awake, my pebble. Have you had second breakfast yet?”

Even as her bladder demanded her immediate attention, Bilbo couldn’t help smiling on her way to the loo.

 

-

 

Little under a sevenday, that’s all Fíli was willing to give to his men, and himself, at Beorn's cottage. As hospitable and generous as the man was, Fíli didn’t want to impose more on him than they already had, and he promised to send payment for what his Company had used up of Beorn's stock, despite the skinchanger’s loud claims that such things were unnecessary. For once, Beorn was more than happy to let them stay for as long as they wanted to, and Fíli wasn’t the only one who suspected two certain hobbits had a lot to do with that offer. Adalgrim being Adalgrim, had befriended the entire menagerie, Beorn's bloody bear included, and hadn’t _that_ been a fun day to wake up to. For all of them. Fíli was silently grateful for having inherited his father’s colouring, white hair wasn’t quite as noticeable in gold as they were in coal, like his uncle’s. Fíli was also under no illusions regarding where a third of Thorin's white came from.

 

With the ponies rested and well-fed, his men equally so, Fíli helped his beloved up onto the carriage once more, Adalgrim opting to ride with Nori that day, and they all bid their large host goodbye. Beorn had patrolled the night before and had told them that the road to the Forest Gate was clear. Once there, Fíli knew the elves of Mirkwood would escort them through their realm straight through to the Elvenking’s Halls, and once out of the forest, they’d be as good as home. Peace, as fragile as it was between Erebor and Mirkwood, did come with a few perks. This time he didn’t have to worry about ending up in one of Thranduil's cells. Or so he hoped at least. You never knew with the cranky tree shagger.

 

Being so close to the Lonely Mountain, the four days it took them to get to the Forest Gate seemed to fly by. The guards took turns keeping watch, for there were plenty of orcs in these parts and sadly, snow didn’t stop them much. Having nothing better to do, Bofur and Dori did their best to keep their smallest member of the Company occupied. Only Fíli noticed how Bilbo lost some colour when they heard the loud howl of a warg in the distance, remembering what she had told him about the Fell Winter. As much as she didn’t seem to mind goblins too much, or even orcs, wargs did still give her nightmares. Those were the nights when he pulled her as close as he could, sharing his body heat with her while humming low songs in Khuzdûl in her ear. Bilbo never said anything, but Fíli knew she was grateful for his distraction.

 

“I hate ta say it,” Nori mumbled once they got to the entrance of the forest. “But maybe we should go ‘round.”

Those from the original Company of Thorin, eyed the darkness warily, the dangers they'd faced in there still in fresh memory. Bofur shuddered more at the thought of the Enchanted River than the darkness or spiders but considering what the dark waters had done to his cousin, that was hardly surprising.

 

Bilbo glanced between the trees and the dwarrow. She was a hobbit, a creature that loved all things green and growing, she had spent countless hours just walking through the forests of the Shire, breathing in the crisp air while picking mushrooms and drinking from the cold springs hidden unless you knew exactly where to go and what to look for… but here that feeling of peacefulness didn’t come. There was something _wrong_ about the large twisted trunks and the gnarly branches. These trees were old… and they were sick. She swallowed hard.

“You said that the Mirkwood elves patrol these parts for travellers and merchants, did you not?” she asked lowly.

“Aye.” Glóin confirmed. “But we know not with which intervals.” he muttered into his thick beard. “We might as well have missed them and they will not return for a sevenday.”

“No, they patrol every other day.” Fíli frowned. He had been there when Thranduil, as hoity-toity as ever, declared that his elves would patrol more often to keep travellers safe. As if he did it out of the goodness of his heart rather than because now that Dale was rebuilt, there were plenty of merchants coming from Gondor and Rohan. Granted, many chose to go the other way around the forest to avoid the dark menace that plagued its gnarly trees, but there were just as many that chose to go straight through, especially those that came from across the Misty Mountains and didn’t want to waste time going around. “Even if we just missed them, there should be another patrol coming within the next couple of days.”

“Then we should keep going.” Bilbo bit her lip while thinking. As much as she _really_ didn’t want to go in there, she _really_ didn’t want to just sit around and wait either. She knew she was due soon and she preferred being in Erebor with access to healers and midwives when the time came rather than out and about, surrounded by spider-infested woods on one side and orc-infested plains on the other. “Even if we move at our usual pace, they should either catch up or meet us, correct?”

The dwarrow hesitantly nodded their agreement.

“Then let us continue and hope they have not yet been here.”

No one missed the way she rubbed her sore belly.

Said and done, Fíli ordered his men to get ready for anything that may or may not come their way, then they cautiously entered through the Forest Gate of Mirkwood.

 

-

 

Fíli would have cursed like the filthiest miner if small ears hadn’t been there to overhear. They must've used up all their luck while they crossed the mountains because they had definitely missed the elven patrol. Or they didn’t patrol as often as Thranduil had promised. The Company had carefully made their way through the woods, following the path as best they could, three days in and they had yet to see any pointy eared tree shaggers. Either that, or something had happened that made the elves unavailable… and Fíli would rather not think of such scenarios. Which of course is when they finally got attacked by spiders.

 

This time however, the dwarrow knew to keep their attention upwards rather than around them. And having made sure they travelled as silently as possible, quite a feat with a small child and creaking wagons, they heard them coming as much as saw them swarm down from the trees.

_They must have come for the ponies._ Fíli thought desperately while cutting the front legs off of one spider, only to stab another in the face upon a spin on his toes. In the corner of his eye he saw how Bilbo held Adalgrim in a vicelike grip, hiding under the wagon she had been riding in before. Adal clung to her like a limpet, silent but for the occasional whimper. _Good lad, stay close to your mother._

 

A flash of a blade was the sign they had all been waiting for. Silent as mist the Mirkwood elves swooped into the fray, killing giant spiders with a ruthless efficiency that spoke of many encounters and plenty experience.

The whole thing was over so fast the dwarves were almost insulted, glaring daggers at their fair headed saviours. Not that they had needed saving of course, they had handled the whole thing just _fine_. Keeping in mind that he was still a _Prince of Erebor_ , Fíli drew a deep breath and turned to the closest elf.

“We were expecting you two days ago.”

“We were elsewhere occupied.” came the calm answer. “We will escort you safely through Mirkwood now.” The elf wasn’t in the least impressed with the glares he was getting from the Short Folk. For all he cared, the greedy dwarves could walk _around_ Mirkwood and not enter at all. But orders were orders and no one disobeyed King Thranduil if they knew what was good for them. “If it does not suit you, you can go back the way you came from, dwarf.”

“Is this how Mirkwood treats their allies?” Fíli snarled. “Insults an-“

“Da?” came a low voice from their side, immediately turning all their attention there. “Mummy wen'th peepee.” Adalgrim looked like he wasn’t sure what to do about it. He clung to his mother’s hand like he was afraid she’d vanish if he let go.

 

Several pairs of eyes turned to Bilbo… and the quite the impressive puddle between her feet.

Fíli felt more white hair come in when he saw how pale she was. She looked terrified. And while he may not be an expert he _knew_ that water was a bad sign. Hadn’t the situation been what it was, Fíli would’ve probably laughed out loud at how the elves turned to the pregnant hobbit and abruptly lost what little colour they had. However, the situation _was_ what it was and hence he saw no humour whatsoever in the whole situation. Blue eyes turned to the elf before him when she whimpered, her legs almost giving out beneath her. Adalgrim whimpered with her, suddenly truly scared of losing his mother even as he tried to help her stand.

“If you run, can you make it to Lasgalen?”

“What? Maybe?” the elf pressed out, unsure of where to turn or look. Suddenly he realised _why_ the dwarves had been so keen on an escort through Mirkwood. It wasn’t because they couldn’t or wouldn’t fight, it was because they had a pregnant halfling with them! _And_ a small child too! “Probably?” His voice did _not_ crack, thank you very much.

“No!” Bilbo pressed out, once the contraction passed. She was sweating up a storm yet she felt oddly cold. “I will _not_ have this baby without you, Fíli!” Her glare would’ve probably held more sting hadn’t she been so pale, or trembling. “You missed the birth of your first child, Fíli, I can wait until we are safely in Erebor, _all of us._ ”

 

Seeing some of the elven guards suddenly glance up sent tendrils of ice down Fíli's spine. More spiders, attracted to the scent of blood… and something far more fragile than a few ponies. And the noise of Bilbo crying out when the next contraction struck, finally sending her to her knees. They didn’t have the time to get to Erebor, they didn’t have time to get through the bloody _forest_!

And that’s when Fíli made one of the hardest decisions of his life. Turning to the elven guard, he gave the man one short order.

“Take her.”

“Fíli, no, I will-”

Even he could hear the rustling of dead leaves now. Behind him his men readied themselves for another battle.

“Take her and _RUN!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m SOO SORRY for the long wait, I hit major writers block while working on this and well… it is what it is. 
> 
> And for those of you with slightly more energy, how about this? Help me come up with a name for Bilbo's baby. I haven’t decided on gender so I won’t say which.  
> Leave a suggestion for the name, and a little description WHY you’d love that name. And once I've decided, I’ll use that name and give credit to whomever came up with it in my next chapter! Hm? ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥  
> Comments with just a name will be ignored.
> 
> ♥♥♥Please do leave a little sumthin’ sumthin’! They keep me motivated even when writers block kicks my ass! ♥♥♥
> 
> Toodles!
> 
> P.S. I'll go over this again and look for typos etc when it ISN'T 02.45 in the morning


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